by Becki Willis
“No problem. Hey, how many other rooms are on our floor?”
“I think just that one suite, on the opposite end from ours.”
“That’s what I thought,” Genny murmured.
“Why?”
“There was a guy up there, standing near our door when I came up. I can’t be sure, but it looked like he was just hanging around our suite.”
Madison shrugged. “Probably just nosy, hoping the door would open so he could get a peek inside. I’ve done the same thing myself a time or two,” she said with a sheepish grin.
“You’re probably right. Hey, did you see that I came down that staircase right over there, and not the front one? It will save us a few steps when we come down for breakfast in the morning.”
“Now you sound like Blake, already thinking ahead to breakfast! I think my sixteen-year-old son is wearing off on you.”
“It’s true. I’m going to miss the kids when Cutter and I get married.”
“I’ll loan them to you anytime you need your food supplies depleted,” Madison promised. Blake was at that magical age when he could eat the hinges off the door. It seemed impossible to fill his lanky form.
Sitting back to sip her wine, Madison watched the buzz of activity within the inn. Women in long, sequined gowns and glittering jewels arrived on the arm of four-star generals, foreign dignitaries, and politicians she recognized from the news. Discreet Secret Service agents stood along the perimeters, wearing earpieces and noticeable bulges beneath somber dinner jackets.
As quickly as the guests arrived, more agents appeared and whisked them away to a secreted area. Each time the door fanned, Madison had a brief glimpse of sparkling champagne served in long, slender flutes, the twinkling lights of a grand chandelier, and the twirling images of silk and satin. The muted sounds of music and laughter drifted on the air, adding to the festive elegance of the ultra-private party.
“That must be quite a party in there,” she guessed. “At least we know we’re safe. With half the CIA and FBI here, you know the house is swarming with Secret Service.”
“Not just the CIA. They don’t call this the intel alphabet community for nothing, you know,” Genny said. “Remember, I lived in DC for a few years, before moving to Boston. There’s some sixteen or seventeen agencies that make up Intel and Homeland Security, most of them right in this area. CIA, FBI, NSA, DIA, DEA, NRO… I can’t even begin to name them all.”
“Angie from Annapolis said the same thing, but I didn’t realize we were so close to the hotbed of activity,” Madison murmured, her mind abuzz. Angie had said so much, it was difficult to retain half of it.
“The NSA is just down the road. And of course, the US Naval Academy is in Annapolis.”
“I wonder if Mark Harmon is here tonight,” Granny Bert asked, craning her neck as the front door opened. “That may be him, stepping out of that shiny black Maybach.”
“Granny Bert, he’s an actor, not an actual agent with the Navy,” Genny reminded the older woman.
“I heard he researches for the part, to make it as authentic as possible. And that good-looking black guy over there looks a lot like the one who played Morgan on that show about the BAU. Isn’t Quantico around here somewhere?”
While her companions debated the issue, Madison observed a tall, blond woman as she strode into the great room. Her first thought was that the woman was part of the intelligence community. She certainly carried herself with the confidence and air of authority needed in such a career. Or perhaps she was with the security team, Madison amended. The air around the woman fairly crackled with energy, even though she simply stood near the grand staircase, studying the entire room with one sweeping glance.
Madison’s thoughts flashed to the beady-eyed man on the plane, the one who seemed perched on the edge of his seat, ready to pounce. Two peas in a pod, Maddy thought. Both full of suppressed energy.
If this woman was security, she was dressed differently from the others. No obvious earpiece, no bulge beneath her stylish navy blazer, just a soft alpaca European rolled turtleneck that brought out the blue of her eyes. Madison admired the thin gold bracelet on her wrist and the crystal pendant dangling from around her neck. Most of all, she admired the woman’s smooth and steady gait as she gracefully exited the room, less than a minute after entering.
A born athlete, Madison mused. Despite being tall and lean herself, Maddy knew she lacked that special grace that came with athletic skills.
“I wonder if that was the innkeeper who just came through,” she murmured, considering the possibility.
“Where? I didn’t see anyone,” Genny said.
“She came through that way—” Madison pointed to the area by the staircase “—stood there for a few seconds surveying the room, and went out that way. She was well dressed, but not fancy enough to be attending the party. She did look like someone important, though.”
“According to their brochure, every guest here at Peralynna is important.” Genny smiled sweetly.
“What are you, their new advertising exec?” Granny Bert scoffed.
Genny shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, Maddy’s letting Derron create an ad for In a Pinch. Maybe I want to do the same for this place. I’ve been reading up on it, and the more I read, the more fascinated I become.”
Madison put her hand to her forehead. “Please, don’t remind me about my hasty decision to give Derron more responsibility. Turning him loose while I’m gone may be the downfall of my business. The bright side is, it doesn’t have far to fall.”
To make ends meet after her husband died, Madison moved back to her hometown and started a temporary service. For the first several months, her staff of one—herself—filled in when clients were in a pinch and needed help. Derron Mullins had more or less appointed himself as her one and only part-time employee. When things were going well, she was even able to pay him.
“Maybe he’ll find a dead body while we’re gone and have you a new case to solve,” Granny Bert chirped.
“Granny Bert, keep your voice down!” Madison hissed. “People here don’t know you’re kidding.”
“Who’s kidding? Since you came back to town, we’ve had a rash of dead bodies and crimes. Ronny Gleason, Caress Ellingsworth, that poor skeleton in the basement—”
“Okay, okay,” Madison interrupted. “Point taken. But I had absolutely nothing to do with any of those.”
“No, but you helped solve most of their cases,” Genny said, obviously proud of her friend’s investigative skills. In truth, she had a hand in solving most of them, as well. “Sometimes I think that’s why Brash is marrying you,” she went on to tease. “That may be the only way our dear chief of police can control the town’s up and coming new rogue investigator.”
“I’m not a PI,” Maddy reminded her with a groan. “I have a temporary work agency. Can I help it if people hire me to solve mysteries? And the main reason Brash can’t solve them on his own is because his hands are tied by bureaucratic red tape and legal technicalities. And budget shortfalls,” she added, remembering all the times he complained of limited funds. “Don’t forget budget shortfalls and cuts.”
“You know I’m just teasing. Brash is the best police chief either town has ever seen. We’re lucky some big city hasn’t already snatched him up and stolen him from us.”
“It’s not from lack of trying,” Madison admitted. “He gets offers all the time, but he refuses them. He says he came back to raise Megan in the town he grew up in, and he has no plans of ever leaving again.”
Her handsome fiancé had been away from the sister towns of Naomi and Juliet almost as long as she had. While Madison had married right out of college and settled in Dallas to start a family, Brash’s career had been far more exciting. A football scholarship led to a brief career as a professional player, but he gave it up when his girlfriend came up pregnant. His turbulent marriage only lasted until Megan was a toddler, but Brash had gone on to coach at several premier colleges in Texas, reluctant to s
tray far from his daughter. Eventually giving up the sport completely—other than hosting summer camps for underprivileged youths—Brash studied law enforcement and returned to The Sisters to serve as father to Megan and chief of police to the small community. Without the bindings of romance, he and ex-wife Shannon had become close friends. She was now married to his best friend and together, the three of them were raising a wonderful young woman, who just happened to be best friends with Madison’s daughter.
“That man has a good head on his shoulders,” Granny Bert remarked. “He can’t be swayed with inflated salaries and strokes to his ego. You did good, finally snagging that man after all these years.”
It was no secret that Madison had a crush on him in high school, but it had taken twenty years to discover he reciprocated her feelings. She could never think of the years as wasted, however, no matter how unhappy her marriage had become before Gray’s sudden death. After all, she had Bethani and Blake during that time, and Brash had Megan. She already loved the auburn-haired teen as her own, and Brash, in turn, adored the twins. Blake had a special bond with the lawman that had been missing with his biological father. It warmed Madison’s heart every time she saw the two of them together.
“If he ever leaves the department, the two of you could start your own detective agency,” Genny suggested.
“But I thought you and I were going to start one,” Madison teased. “What was that name you came up with? Soup and Snoop. Lunch and investigation services, all in one handy stop.”
“But then you went and gave up your corner booth at the café and got that snazzy new office in the remodel,” Genny pretended to pout. “No soup compares with that.”
“No, but your Gennydoodle cookies do.” Madison pushed away her half-eaten chocolate chip cookie with a sigh. “Honestly, after eating your desserts, nothing else comes close. How are you going to judge that contest tomorrow, knowing your own creations are ten times better?”
Genny’s laugh was modest. “It’s good for me to keep up with the competition. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and where I’m at, but my customers don’t exactly know the difference between chocolate ganache and chocolate mousse. And Cutter, bless his heart, is content with nothing but apple turnovers for the rest of his life, with an occasional tiramisu thrown in on special occasions. I need a reminder now and then of how the other half lives. Or bakes.”
“Keep it simple, girl, and you’ll never go wrong,” her stand-in grandmother advised. They weren’t blood related, but they were family, nonetheless.
“Speaking of tomorrow, I asked, but unfortunately, you can’t come with me. I’m afraid you and Granny Bert will have to find some other way to entertain yourselves.”
“That’s no problem. I’m sure there’s plenty to do around here. Isn’t that right, Granny?”
Her grandmother nodded with enthusiasm. “I saw a brochure in the lobby, something about a zip line near here. You know I love to zip line.”
“It may be too cold, but we’ll check it out,” Madison promised. A frown creased her forehead. “And you’re right. We have vastly different ideas of fun.”
“You know what they say. To each her own. You can stand around and watch paint dry, while I whisk my way through the treetops.” Her grandmother used a wave of her bony hand for emphasis.
“Oh, look,” Genny broke in, “I bet that’s the innkeeper. She was just visiting with those people at the table, and now she’s moving this way. She seems to be working her way through the room.”
Soon, a pleasant-looking, sixty-something woman made her way into the sunken sitting room where they were. “Hello,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m Sophie Jamison, your innkeeper. Welcome to The Columbia Inn at Peralynna.”
As the three women introduced themselves, Sophie helped herself to a seat on the sofa next to Genny. “What brings you to our area?”
“I’m judging a benefit cooking competition this week. My friends came along to make it a girl’s trip.”
“How delightful! Is that the competition being held at Fretz Kitchens? Someone called yesterday about possibly having one segment of the contest filmed here. I think it depends upon how the judging goes, and whether there’s a tie. What a wonderful coincidence that you’re staying here!”
“It would certainly be convenient for me,” Genny agreed with a twinkle in her eye.
The innkeeper wagged her finger as recognition dawned in her face. “Wait a minute. I know you ladies! You’re from Texas and did that television show about restoring an old mansion. You’re the one with the café. You make some sort of fabulous apple turnovers, if that good-looking firefighter is to be believed.”
Blushing in spite of herself, Genny laughed and admitted, “I certainly hope so. We’re getting married on Valentine’s Day.”
“Married? Congratulations! How exciting!”
“This trip doubles as her bachelorette party,” Madison told the other woman.
“That’s right,” Granny Bert pitched in. “Know any fun spots where we can take her for a good time?”
Sophie laughed, wagging her finger again at the elderly woman. “Ah, I remember you, Granny Bert. Always a live one, you are!”
“It’s how I keep young.”
“I loved your television show, by the way. It often made me think of this house. You’re not the only one with hidden passages and secret staircases, you know. This house has quite a few of its own.”
“We read something about that,” Madison said, “but we’d love to hear more.”
“The owner’s parents were CIA agents back in the day, and apparently having children was the perfect cover for covert missions and clandestine meetings. After all, who would question a family outing? It appeared completely innocent. The owner remembers having grand parties and overnight guests in a house just like this one in Germany, near the Taunus Mountains. It wasn’t until she was much older that she realized her parents were operatives, and that many of their guests were spies, and quite often dangerous.”
“We’re in the penthouse, and I understand that in the original house, it was used to watch over the rest of the house. Is that correct?”
“Yes, I believe so.” Sophie nodded. She twisted so that she could point out the row of windows on both the third and fourth tiers of the massive room. “You see those windows that wrap around there on the third floor? Those are in your room, and from there, you have excellent views. You can even see onto the decks outside, and into the edge of the kitchen. The fourth floor connects to your room, as well, and spills into the loft you see. We use it for storage now, but when this was a private home, it was a wonderful reading room and play area for the owners’ grandchildren.”
“I see many similarities to the Big House,” Madison nodded.
“We even have a basement,” Sophie said, her eyes twinkling. “However, we encourage guests to explore ours. We have a wonderful pool table down there, as well as several suites.”
“No secret passages down to a hidden room?” Granny Bert asked.
In reply, Sophie merely smiled. “I’ll never tell.”
Genny leaned forward. “So where are the secret staircases?”
“If I told you that, they wouldn’t be secret, now would they?”
“Do they go up, or down?”
Sophie paused for a moment before divulging that small bit of information. “Both.”
“You know you have our curiosity up now,” Madison told her, her tone a bit reproachful.
“Exactly. And you are welcome to explore the inn and do your best to locate all of our intriguing spaces. As long as the door isn’t locked or marked as private, you are welcome to explore.”
“That doesn’t sound like most hotels I’ve ever been to,” Genny said.
“Because The Columbia Inn at Peralynna isn’t your ordinary hotel,” Sophie was quick to say. “Remember, this is a home.”
Madison looked beyond the sunken alcove where they sat, to an interesting recess next to the st
aircase. “What’s that little nook?”
“We call it the Cuddle Room, because it has that comfy little settee where you can cuddle up with a good book or a loved one. But in the original house, it served as a card room. I understand there was a curtain covering the arch. As gambling was illegal, the tables were built into the walls. With the touch of a lever, the walls folded down to expose card tables and chairs. Otherwise, they were hidden in plain sight.”
Granny Bert was fascinated with the revelation. “Sounds a bit like a get-up we had back in Prohibition Days, when I was running moonshine.”
“Granny!” Madison chided, but her grandmother sent her a simmering look.
“I told you, child, times were hard, and we did what we had to do to get by. I was proud to be a bootlegger, and a darned good one, at that. I wasn’t any older than that little hellion that bumped into me at the airport today, but I helped put food on my family’s table.”
“She wasn’t a hellion, Granny, she was a sweet little girl who gave me a drawing.”
Sophie arched a graying brow. “At the airport?”
Madison did an airy wave with her fingers. “It was nothing, just a simple little flower, done in crayon.”
“You had me worried there for a moment,” Sophie admitted with a small laugh. “Being so close to Washington and Fort Meade, and with so many stories of espionage and spy secrets surrounding this house, I suppose I often let my imagination get the better of me.”
“Does the owner ever tell you stories from her childhood?”
“Oh, yes. I can sit and listen to her for hours. Did you know there was a recent blockbuster movie that included a real-life incident involving her father and one of their more famous guests? You can read more about it in an article we have framed in the hallway. And there’s the National Cryptologic Museum just a few miles from here that has an exact replica of the bugged Great Seal, which is also tied to the story. You should definitely check it out.”
“We will,” Madison said. “Granny and I need something to do while Genny is busy judging the competition.”