The Purloined Letter Opener

by Leah R. Cutter

  All four of Joseph’s kids were girls between the ages of three and ten. He doted on them and was always happy to talk about their latest exploits. At least for now. Lydia suspected that matters might change dramatically once they reached dating age.

  Joseph kept Lydia entertained with stories about hunting for frogs at the lake and being fascinated by the minnows at the shallow end, as the line crept forward. It wasn’t until Joseph picked up his packages and carried them up to the counter that Lydia looked around at the other people in the post office.

  Wait a second. The man just leaving. He looked familiar.

  “Next!” Gina called, waving to get Lydia’s attention.

  Crap. Lydia didn’t want to just bolt out the door of the post office to follow him. The line hadn’t gotten any shorter—people coming in and replacing everyone who’d been served.

  It couldn’t have been Neil. Could it?

  No. Not unless he’d changed dramatically over the last few years. Neil was proud, possibly overly so, and held his head high. That poor individual carried himself in a slouch with his head down and shoulders forward.

  “Next,” Gina said, her voice carrying a warning as she waited for Lydia.

  “Right, sorry,” Lydia said as she walked forward and handed the clerk the slip of paper about the package waiting for her.

  When Gina came back, Lydia had to ask. “The guy before me, that wasn’t Neil Roswell, was it?”

  “Who?” Gina asked. Then she shook her head. “Don’t know.”

  Lydia sighed, remembering that Gina had only started working at the post office the previous year and had no idea who Neil might be.

  “Thanks,” Lydia said as she picked up her package. It wasn’t that big—maybe a foot wide and half that tall. However, it felt heavy enough that she knew she needed to carry it in two hands. She nodded again to Joseph and made her way out the door.

  Once Lydia walked back to Main Street, she carefully looked around, seeing if she could spot that stranger. She didn’t see him but she kept a careful eye out all the way back to the B&B, just in case.

  18

  The coasters were perfect, ceramic with cork bottoms, the words “Nip and Bud, Lake Hope” written in that beautiful purple that matched the local agates. Lydia doubted that she would sell many, which is why she had only ordered a dozen. Misty had plans to divide them up into sets of four, with beautiful purple ribbons tied around them. The weight in the box had come from the rest of her order, with four sturdy coffee mugs and a dozen keychain pendants.

  Lydia eagerly stepped out of the B&B again after helping Misty with the rest of the lunch guests, walking to Patrice’s bakery to pick up supplies for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. While some guests would spend the time to have a full breakfast, she always found that Sunday mornings people were more likely to order pastries and coffee to go, eager to get on the road again.

  Lydia looked around as she slowly walked up Main Street, looking for Neil. Or that stranger.

  Had Peter seen the stranger and thought that it was Neil? She wasn’t sure.

  Oh! There he was! Window shopping at the consignment store just across the street! Same dark hair, black T-shirt, and gray shorts.

  Lydia stepped out into the street without looking. The honk made her step back right away.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” she said as the car roared past her. Really, she was just going to have to be more careful.

  Where had he gone? Oh! There! Lydia checked for traffic both ways before she darted across the street and then walked rapidly up the sidewalk.

  It was Neil! She was sure of it. Same arrogant nose and disapproving look.

  “What are you doing here?” Lydia said, the words pouring out of her mouth before she could stop them. She’d meant to say hi. Or something.

  “Excuse me?”

  The young man who turned to look at her was not, in fact, Neil. Particularly not with that charming British accent. His eyes were gray, not brown, and his face was actually longer than Neil’s.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I thought you were my ex,” Lydia said. She normally didn’t blush, but she felt her cheeks grow warm.

  The young man gave her a wan smile. “Right, then,” he said, nodding at her then deliberately walking away, obviously not wanting to engage the crazy person.

  Lydia sighed. She didn’t know if she was disappointed that she hadn’t found Neil or glad, knowing that she was likely to just yell at him when she did see him.

  If she found him.

  Slowly, Lydia walked up the street toward The Palace, looking this way and that, but she didn’t see anyone else who looked like Neil. It was still quiet that morning, only a few couples holding hands, one older couple enjoying their retirement, even a young family with two kids, trying to tire the young ones out before they got back in the car.

  Both Grace and Patrice were at the bakery, and there were a few customers ahead of Lydia. Patrice must have just finished baking more of her quick bread cakes, as the smell of lemon and cinnamon filled the air. Lydia didn’t pace at the back of the store waiting for her turn, though she wanted to. Her stomach grumbled, hungry for lunch or anything sweet. She kept a smile plastered on her face even when one of the tourists stopped to chat about how pretty the lake had been that morning.

  Damn it! Lydia still had other things to do.

  “We’ve got your order,” Patrice said as she finished with the previous customer. She walked into the kitchen in the back, then came out with a canvas bag already full.

  “Thanks,” Lydia said. Patrice kept meticulous records and sent Lydia an invoice every month, which Lydia paid promptly. It was one of the ways that they maintained their friendship, by generally charging for their services. That didn’t mean that they wouldn’t comp each other or give a “friends and family” rate. But Lydia tried not to ask for too many favors, and Patrice did the same. Neither wanted to feel as though she were being taken advantage of.

  “Any news?” Patrice asked as she lifted the bag up over the counter.

  “Neil’s been spotted,” Lydia admitted. She appreciated how wide her friend’s eyes got.

  “What’s he doing here?” Patrice said.

  It warmed Lydia’s heart that Patrice sounded as outraged as Lydia had been. “No idea,” she said. “Just keep an eye out and let me know if you see him.”

  “Will do,” Patrice said grimly. She glanced around the bakery, then gave a shrug to Lydia. There were still at least a half dozen customers waiting. They couldn’t talk just then.

  Lydia smiled and nodded, showing that she understood. They could chat later.

  Feeling bolstered, Lydia took the long way back to the B&B, walking around a few blocks before heading back to Main Street. She kept a careful eye out, looking for Neil but not wanting to make a mistake again. However, no one resembling him was walking in the bright sunlight.

  Maybe on Monday, Misty could shed some light on what was going on, why he’d come back to town.

  Lydia sighed as she walked back into the B&B. She was determined to spend the afternoon out in the back, destroying the few weeds that were growing there. Anything but spend the day inside, brooding.

  Maybe she’d even make it to yoga class tonight as well. Or, failing that, perhaps have some more of Bill’s very good wine to help her relax.

  19

  Lydia woke Sunday morning feeling groggy. She had a headache at the back of her skull, as if she a had crick in her neck. She shook her head and tried to wake up. She’d only had a single glass of wine the night before, so she wasn’t hungover. But she just felt off. Lethargic.

  After taking a long hot shower, Lydia finally felt better, but that nagging headache wouldn’t go away. And there was the smell of something rotten in the air as well.

  Lydia walked from her rooms down the hallway and into the restaurant. Normally, she would have gone straight into the kitchen. However, something caught her eye.

  The door leading outside was ajar.

 
Had a guest been out late last night and somehow left it open? That was unlikely. Lydia had a strong mechanism on the door so that it would shut automatically. Sure, it was possible that someone could have left it open deliberately. But they would have had to work at it. She didn’t see a stone or anything to keep the door open.

  Lydia sighed and pushed the door shut. It gave an odd click as she closed it. Ah. Maybe something was stuck in the door jam. She’d have to look at it later.

  As Lydia made her way back to the kitchen, the awful odor grew stronger. It smelled like rotten eggs. Had the power gone out? Or had something gone wrong with the walk-in? No, it would have taken longer than over night for the eggs there to go bad.

  Only when Lydia was in the kitchen did she hear the hissing noise.

  The gas on the stove had been turned on and was running high.

  Crap!

  Lydia raced around the prep area to the stove, turning off all the burners and the grill as well. Then she opened up the two small windows in the kitchen that overlooked the garden in the back, as well as the ones out front in the restaurant.

  Why hadn’t the carbon monoxide alarms gone off? She had one in the kitchen as well as on every floor. She grabbed the step stool and was reaching for the first one when she realized that the light on it was no longer blinking.

  Slowly, Lydia drew her hand back.

  Danny had done her bi-annual inspection of all of the alarms in the B&B, as well as her fire extinguishers, in February. It was only June. The batteries wouldn’t have worn out by now.

  No, someone had deliberately turned on the gas. And it appeared that they had sabotaged the alarms as well.

  Was someone trying to kill her? Had her ex finally gone ahead and actually done something in order to get his revenge on her?

  Lydia shivered all the way to her core. She felt nauseated, and not just from the stink of the gas.

  One stray spark, and the entire B&B would have gone up in flames. It was an old building. Sure, she’d brought it up to code. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t have burned down.

  Lydia looked around the kitchen, trying to see if anything else was out of place. Everything else seemed in order.

  With heavy feet, Lydia turned and walked up the stairs. She paused on the second floor, checking the ceiling.

  The carbon monoxide alarm was missing. Whoever had done this had just stolen it.

  Same with the third floor.

  Lydia shivered again, then headed straight for the Marigold room. She paused in the hallway, listening at the door. Yes, it sounded as though someone was already up. She knocked softly.

  “Who is it?” called a deep voice from inside.

  “Lydia,” she said, identifying herself. She blamed the way her pulse raced on the fact that she’d just nearly been killed, not because she wanted to see the detective again.

  “Yes?” Ellis said, opening the door and sticking his head out. He was awake, but obviously hadn’t been for long, as his dark hair was tousled and his face still sleep creased. He wore a white T-shirt that was probably old, due to the way it stretched tightly across his chest, showing the muscles there. In addition, he had on a pair of gray sweatpants but his feet were bare, looking vulnerable against the soft brown of the rug.

  “Can I come in for a moment?” Lydia asked, her voice not much louder than a whisper. She was well aware of how sound traveled between the rooms up here.

  The detective held the door open further, letting her in. Lydia didn’t speak until after he’d closed it.

  “There was a break-in last night,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  Ellis grew very still, as if gathering himself up, winding himself tighter so he could spring into action. “Was anything taken?”

  “No,” Lydia said. She sighed. She knew she was doing the right thing telling the detective, but she found she was still so shaken by it all. “Someone took the carbon monoxide alarms, at least up here. Then they turned on the gas on all the burners on the stove, just letting them run.”

  That seemed to surprise Ellis. The detective melted away and suddenly Lydia was facing the man again.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out a warm hand to squeeze her bicep.

  Lydia mutely nodded. This…attack, for want of a better word, had left her extremely unsettled.

  Ellis did not sweep her into his arms to hug her. Lydia could see it in his eyes, how he’d thought about it, how his body had shifted closer, how he’d almost automatically done it.

  Instead, he seemed to realize that he was touching her and dropped his hand, taking a deliberate step back. The veneer of the detective came slamming down again.

  “The front door was left open,” Lydia added. “I need to check the jam because it wasn’t closing all the way anymore.”

  “I’ll come with,” Ellis volunteered. “Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

  Lydia nodded and let herself out of the detective’s room. She took a deep breath, letting go of the wonderful masculine scent that she’d been unconsciously bathing in.

  No, this wouldn’t do. She was already off balance. She needed to pull herself together.

  He would be leaving soon, heading back to Yakima.

  Ellis slipped out of his room a moment later. He’d put on socks and sneakers, as well as a soft-looking flannel shirt over his T-shirt, though he’d kept his sweatpants on. He had a large black bag in his hand.

  Lydia silently pointed at the empty bracket, where the missing carbon monoxide alarm normally resided. Ellis nodded, showing he understood. Then he opened his bag and took out a camera. He snapped a few pictures of the empty bracket, then nodded at her again. Lydia led him down the stairs. She was impressed at how quietly he moved, carefully placing his feet. She bet that would make him a good dancer. Not as though she ever had time to go dancing anymore.

  After a quick stop on the second floor, taking more pictures, Lydia and Ellis first went to the front door. It turned out that a wadded up piece of paper had been slipped into the hole in the strike plate, where the door latch was supposed to go. It made it appear as though the door was closed. Without moving the handle or unlocking it, the door could just be pushed open. During the night, winds had probably pushed it open.

  “Simple, effective,” Ellis said as he knelt down to look at the wad of paper. “Easy to do without anyone noticing, particularly if you had the piece of paper ready. Could just slid it into the hole when passing either in or out of the door.”

  “Making it easy for someone without a key to gain access,” Lydia said. She was proud of how steady her voice sounded.

  Ellis studied the door jamb intently for a few moments, then turned to look up at Lydia.

  “I should declare this as a crime scene,” he said softly. “Call in a forensics team from Yakima.”

  “How long would that take?”

  Ellis shrugged. “It’s Sunday. I might be able to get someone out here by Monday. But more likely, Tuesday.” He gestured to the empty restaurant. “You’d have to close the place. Probably the entire B&B.”

  “I can’t do that,” Lydia said immediately, panic clawing at her throat. “Where will my guests go?”

  “Are there other inns they could stay at?” Ellis said.

  “No. It’s June. The whole town is full,” Lydia said. She made herself take a deep breath so she didn’t start yelling. “I was talking with one of the other innkeepers just down the street. Every room in all of Lake Hope is booked from now through August.” Since Ellis had taken up her one free space, she, too, was booked up.

  Ellis continued to stare mutely at her.

  “Can’t you just do everything yourself? Then you wouldn’t have to call in a team,” Lydia said. She would not close her B&B. The news would get out and she’d lose business. Not just in the short term, either. It might be enough to shut her down completely.

  Was that the actual reason why someone had done this? To shut her down?

  “It would be highly irregular f
or me to process the scene on my own,” Ellis said. He gave her a grin. “It’s part of why my superiors are pissed at me. Because that’s exactly the sort of thing that I would do.”

  “Please?” Lydia said. “I can’t close down. It will ruin me.” She found herself quaking inside. This was worse, somehow, than the place burning down.

  Ellis sighed, then nodded. “All right. I’ll do it myself. You just need to understand that this may not hold up in court, as I’m not an expert.”

  Lydia thought for a moment. “Chances are, I won’t care. It won’t matter.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because whoever did this probably also killed Schooner Thomas. You’ll need to convict them of murder, not just attempted murder.”

  “We don’t know that for certain,” Ellis warned.

  “I know,” Lydia said. “But chances are, that’s what happened.” She felt the connection deep in her gut.

  “Can you think of anyone who would want to do you harm?” Ellis asked.

  Lydia grimaced, then sighed. She chose her words carefully.

  “My ex has supposedly just come back into town. I haven’t seen him yet. And while it was, shall we say, an acrimonious divorce, this seems out of character for him. He’d rather humiliate me publicly, not sneak in and kill me. He wants to get even with me. Not murder me.”

  “Those feelings could have changed. Grown,” Ellis said warned. “I’ve seen it happen.”

  Lydia nodded, unhappy. Neil had hated Schooner Thomas. Had something finally tipped him over the edge, turning him from a talker into a killer?

  Ellis pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “All right. I’ll document everything, but the paperwork about this aspect of the case may not get filed immediately.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia said, relief cascading down her spine, replacing some of the chill that had taken root there.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Ellis said, drawing a notebook and pencil out of his bag. “We still haven’t caught whoever’s done this. Not yet.”