by Jenn Cowan
I cross my arms and huff out a sigh. I know he’s right, but I’m still afraid of what the new development will do to Daysville. Sure, it may bring more money and business to town, but what about the kind of people it will attract. Will it also bring more murderers to town? I shake my head and push those thoughts away. I need to focus on the current murder. “We’ll table this conversation until after we solve this murder and get me hitched.”
My dad smiles. “Fine. Guess we’d better hurry. I had your mom push the rehearsal dinner back an hour, which was no easy feat.”
“I bet not.” I stare out the window as we pull up to Daysville Bed and Breakfast. “What are we doing here?”
“Wyatt got some threatening emails.”
“From his mother and sister?”
My dad cocks his head to one side. “No, from Mr. Gillman.”
“Mr. Gillman, the sweet old owner of the inn?”
“Yes. He’s wanting to retire and was trying to convince Wyatt to buy the business. We didn’t think it was a very good location.”
I glance out the window at the old two-story white Victorian inn with blue shutters. The wrap around porch boasts wicker chairs and a hanging swing. Rose bushes climb up the railing and the sides of the home. It’s a house right out of a Hallmark movie, but is fifteen minutes outside of town.
“Here’s the last email sent the day of the murder.” He hands me a sheet of paper.
I scan the email, which is quite lengthy. It talks about all the perks of the inn and the benefits of investing in it, but the end catches my attention. “If you don’t buy the inn, you’ll be sorry,” I read aloud then look at my dad. “Mr. Gillman doesn’t seem like the violent type. I mean killing someone because he wants to retire seems a little extreme.”
“My thoughts exactly so I did some checking. It seems Mr. Gillman and his sister are in quite a lot of debt. They have two mortgages on the property and are barely bringing in enough income to cover the bills. It’s a money pit. No wonder they want to get rid of it.”
“Wyatt never looked into the financials before vetoing the property?”
My dad shrugs. “He may have, but the location was always key when buying up properties.”
I purse my lips. “Mr. Gillman is so nice. There’s no way he could have killed Wyatt.”
“Autumn, you know as well as I do that not everyone in Daysville is as nice as they let on. Money is a big motive for murder.” He pats my arm. “Let’s go talk to him and see where he was the day of the murder.”
I sigh and step out into the summer heat. The sun is already beginning to set, but the humidity hits me like a brick wall. The sweet smell of roses engulfs me with each step and helps to calm my nerves. I can’t imagine Mr. Gillman hurting anyone. He’s been the school’s crossing guard for years. He holds an umbrella for the kids on rainy days and his pockets are always full of something sweet to share with them. There’s just no way he’s behind this. I take a deep breath and shake out my hands before reaching for the doorbell.
My dad steps up behind me and gives me an encouraging pat on the back.
Footsteps sound in the foyer then it swings open to reveal the woman I’ve been searching for all day.
“Mrs. Cole, I didn’t realize you were in town,” I lie, taking in her sleek black hair that frames her face and her neatly pressed mauve pant suit with designer heels. “Chase said you were enjoying some time at the spa.”
She plasters on a fake smile. “I couldn’t relax, knowing my sweet Allison was in jail for a crime she didn’t commit.”
I place a hand over my heart as if I’m in awe of her motherly gesture. “Of course not. Do you have a moment?” I gesture to the chairs on the porch.
She glances nervously behind me to the dark rental car, which looks oddly similar to the one that was following me around town and shooting at me. “I really have to go. Chase just called me to tell me he’s been shot. The poor thing.”
“Ah, yes. You and Chase are very close, aren’t you?”
She frowns and narrows her eyes at me. “He’s like the son I’ve never had. He was the best thing to ever happen to Allison and she threw him away.”
“That’s not what Allison told me.”
Jean rolls her eyes dramatically. “Allison is blaming everyone but herself for the way she handled the miscarriage. We all tried to be there for her. She was the one who kept pushing Chase away.” She glances over my shoulder again then says, “I really should be going.”
“Just a few more questions.”
She sighs loudly. “If you must.”
“When did you get to town?”
“Friday morning, why?”
“Are you sure it wasn’t earlier than that?”
“Of course, I’m sure. I think I would know when I checked in.”
“So, you won’t mind if I check with Mr. Gillman to verify that, will you?”
She balls her fists and glares at me. “What are you, the police? Why are you asking me about when I checked in? Are you trying to accuse me of something?”
I ignore her questions and continue, “Where were you the day Chase’s best friend, Wyatt died?”
“Who?”
I smirk at her and cross my arms. “The man who stalked your daughter.”
“I told you, I didn’t get here until Friday.”
“So, you didn’t kidnap your daughter? Travis, Cat or me then either, right?”
“I think we’re done here. My driver is waiting,” she grits out, pushing past me and toward her rental car. A bulky guy, who must have been waiting for her in the car, gets out to open the door for her.
“Did you enjoy your meal at the diner?” I call after her.
She whips around and quirks an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“The diner. You had a late lunch there, didn’t you?”
“Yes. What does that matter?”
“It’s just your car looks very similar to the one that followed me to the hardware store and the same one that fired shots at me and Chase this afternoon.”
“I’m done answering your questions. I don’t have to talk to you.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile. “No, but you might want to get a lawyer because once I tell the captain about all of this, he’ll be dragging you down to the station for a nice chat.”
Jean throws me a dirty look before turning on her heels and nearly tripping over a rock before staggering to her car. She gets in and her driver slams the door then hops in the driver’s seat and peels out of the parking lot.
My dad chuckles beside me. “You sure fired her up. Those were some pretty direct questions, missy. What happened to playing it cool?”
I shrug and sigh. “I don’t have time for good cop. I need answers and to solve this case so I can marry Josh without all of this hanging over our heads.”
My dad rubs the back of his neck. “About that…”
I stiffen. “What?”
“Your mother is working on it so don’t freak out.”
My heart starts to pound in my chest. “Freak out. Why would I freak out?”
“The real reason the rehearsal dinner is postponed is because Josh and his dad took off this afternoon and no one has heard from them.”
“Took off?” I shriek. “What do you mean they took off?”
“Josh was upset about the whole you and Travis thing. His dad recommended they go for a drive to clear his head. That was several hours ago and the last text his mother got from them said they might not make it back in time for the rehearsal dinner.”
I rub my temples trying to ward off the headache brewing behind my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. “Josh wouldn’t just leave without telling me and he wouldn’t bail on the rehearsal dinner either.”
My dad takes me by the arms. “Honey, Josh thinks you’re still in love with Travis. I overheard him talking to his parents. I have to ask and don’t hate me, but are you?”
I scoff and blink back the tears in my eyes before
almost screaming. “No! Travis and I are in the past. Josh is my future. I wouldn’t have accepted his proposal if I didn’t love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him.” I throw my hands up in defeat because that’s how I feel… defeated. “How can Josh even think I’m still in love with Travis? Do I care about him? Sure. Do I want what’s best for him? Absolutely, but I’m not in love with him.” I start down the steps. “I have to talk to Josh.”
My dad grabs my arm and pulls me back onto the porch. “Autumn, his phone is turned off. Your mother and his have been trying every minute for the past few hours. Maybe Josh just needs some space. He’s spent years competing with Travis and to see you two together was probably hard on him.” My dad pats my back. “He’s a smart guy. He’ll figure it out.”
I nod through the tears brimming in my eyes when the screen door slams and two ladies stomp out onto the porch. I blink the tears away and open my mouth to ask if they’re Wyatt’s family when the older woman with curly gray hair wearing a black floral dress plops down in one of the chairs and begins to sob. The younger dark-haired woman, wearing a designer black and gray dress and stiletto heels, sits down beside her and rubs circles on her back while talking quietly to her.
My father and I exchange a look.
“Are you Wyatt’s family?” I inquire stepping closer to them.
The older woman wipes her nose with a handkerchief then looks up at me. “I’m his mother, Margaret.” She holds out a hand for me to shake.
I take it. “Nice to meet you.”
“This is my daughter, Ava.”
I shake her hand as well. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Margaret dabs her eyes. “He was such a sweet boy. Why would someone kill him?”
“Do you have any idea who could have done this to your son?”
She blinks up at me. “His wife, of course.”
18
“His wife?”
“Allison. She was always so sweet when we’d come into the salon, but once she and Wyatt got married, she kept him away from us. We didn’t see him for over a year because of her.” She tsks under her breath. “Who keeps their husband away from his own mother?”
“I’m sorry. I’m confused. Wyatt was married? To Allison Cole?”
His mother nods and looks at me like I’m the one with a screw loose. “They were going to have a baby a little over a year ago, but Allison lost it. She went a little crazy after that and moved away for a while, but they were working it out. Wyatt was doing some business with a developer here in Daysville and was planning on building us a nice house on his land. He wanted us to be close for when the baby comes.”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “The ba-baby?”
She grins. “Yes, they just found out. Wyatt was so excited. He couldn’t wait to be a father. He loved Allison so much. As a babymoon gift, he was going to buy Allison the salon she was working at so she could have her own business again. That way she could be at home with the baby more and still have a career.” Her smile falters. “I just don’t understand why she killed him. Now, my grandchild will be born in prison.” The wailing begins again.
I fight the urge to plug my ears and shoot my dad a perplexed look. I feel like I’m in some sort of time warp. Who makes up a story about being married to someone they were never married to? And having a baby? I can’t wrap my head around any of this, but I’m pretty sure the mother and sister are out in regard to my suspect list. They seem truly upset by his death and what did they have to gain by it? I’m not sure. Obviously, he didn’t cut them off if he was buying them a house and moving them here, right? I lean over to my dad. “Do you think she’s lying?”
He shakes his head. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
“It was so nice meeting you both. Again, we’re sorry for your loss.”
The ladies nod and go back to crying in each other’s arms.
My dad opens the door for me and we step just inside the door. The inn smells like baked goods and furniture polish.
“Did you know about Wyatt’s history and hire him anyway?” I whisper-yell at my dad as he closes the front door.
His shoulders slump as he leans against the front door. “Wyatt is-was the best in the business. He came highly recommended.”
“But he had a mental breakdown. Stalked Allison. Spent time in a mental institution. And apparently made up this whole fake life with Allison.”
My dad sighs. “I didn’t know about the whole ‘fake life’, but Wyatt never hid his past and was upfront about it from the beginning. He also went through a lot of therapy and seemed to be in a better place. He was driven and dedicated to his clients. There’s no way I could have done everything without him. I’m not sure how I’ll move forward without him.”
“Do you think his family killed him?”
“No. He told me about his plans to move to Daysville and settle down. He even put an offer in on the old Mayor’s house last week with plans to build a smaller house on the property for his mother and sister.”
“Did he ever mention Allison?”
“He talked about a girl he loved who was from here, but never mentioned her name. I’m sure he knew that I would know who she was if he told me. I didn’t push for more details. We mostly talked business.”
“Does Mom know about all of this?”
His face goes pale and lowers his voice. “No and I would appreciate you keeping this between us for now. If word gets out before I’m ready with my model and plan for the town, it could be catastrophic for all of us. Please, Autumn. You can’t say anything. Promise me.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling over keeping his secret, but ultimately know it’s for the best. “I promise, but don’t make me keep this secret for long.”
“I won’t. I just need a little more time to get things in order.” Then he gestures to the front desk in the next room. “Let’s go talk to Mr. Gillman. He should be around here somewhere.”
A moan comes from the next room.
We exchange a glance and hurry toward the sound.
“Mr. Gillman?” I call out.
Another moan.
We hurry around the wooden desk to find him lying on the floor. We rush forward to help him sit up.
“What happened?” I ask, grabbing some tissues off the desk and pressing them to the gash over his eyebrow.
The old man swipes at his forehead, but I hold the tissues firmly in place.
“Hold still, Mr. Gillman. I have to stop the bleeding. Can you tell us what happened?”
“I was attacked.”
My dad steps back to call an ambulance and the police.
I try to get Mr. Gillman to calm down. He’s talking gibberish. Something about flying banana bread and a wooden rolling pin clocking him in the back of the head. I have no idea what he’s rambling on about. No one else seems to be in the house, my dad checked, so I’m wondering if Mr. Gillman’s had a stroke.
My dad questions Margaret and Ava. They’ve been in their room all day until just now and insist they didn’t hear a thing. They said Mr. Gillman’s sister had been baking all week so maybe he got confused.
The paramedics load up Mr. Gillman and whisk him away to the hospital while my dad and I follow them.
“Do you think someone really hit Mr. Gillman over the head with a rolling pin or do you think he fell?”
“Or maybe he heard us talking on the porch and is faking the whole thing so we don’t suspect him of anything,” my dad counters, raising an eyebrow at me before returning his focus to the road.
I mull over his words as we pull into the hospital parking lot. I spot the paramedic, Taylor, struggling to get Mr. Gillman inside. Apparently, he hates all things medical and prefers to use herbs and remedies to heal. Not that I blame him, I do too, but the cut on his forehead is deep and he’ll need some stiches. I hurry over to them and try to calm Mr. Gillman down.
“I was attacked by flying bread and a rolling pin. It flew out of nowhere. My inn is haun
ted. A ghost is trying to kill me, but no one is listening to me.”
Taylor stifles a laugh, but Mr. Gillman hears her and tries to stand up.
“I’m too old for this nonsense. All these young’uns don’t believe a word I say. I’m not delusional and I didn’t have a stroke. I know what I saw,” he huffs and grunts as he tries to get himself off the stretcher.
I gently push him back down and pat his hand. “I believe you, Mr. Gillman.”
He relaxes back onto the stretcher. “You do?”
“Of course. Now, please let the doctor get you all stitched up and we’ll take care of that ghost. Okay?”
“You will?”
I nod and place a hand over my heart. “I promise.”
He smiles and lies back on the stretcher, mumbling about how there are at least some good people left on this earth.
I follow the stretcher until they get him settled in a room before I duck out to chat with the captain.
“Did he tell you anymore about his attacker? Does he think it was one of the guests?”
“No. He’s pretty convinced it was a ghost.”
“A ghost? Seriously? That’s ridiculous.” The captain rubs a hand over his bald head then excuses himself to make a phone call.
My dad smirks.
I shrug, not knowing what else to say about the matter. Maybe it was a ghost. My experience with Laura taught me that ghosts do exist and will make themselves known when they need to.
“Autumn! Autumn! Oh, thank goodness,” Regina exclaims, rushing toward me.
“Regina, what’s wrong? Is Travis alright?”
“Hurry. Come quick. He’s awake.”
“Go,” my dad says, shooing me toward the ICU. “I’ll see if I can get any more information out of Mr. Gillman.”