by Jane Gorman
“No, no,” George mumbled as he removed his coat and tossed it onto the bed. “It’s just winter eczema.” He scratched some more as he spoke. “Get it every year. Usually clears up by now.” He glanced at Anna then looked away quickly. “I have lotion for it. It’s fine.”
The jingling of the doorbell pulled her away from George’s scintillating presence and she ran back downstairs to find the Gormleys waiting. An elderly couple, they were in Cape May celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary. Anna watched as they held hands even while signing the hotel register and sighed, wondering if she would ever feel that safe with a man again.
She pushed sad memories away and helped get the Gormleys settled into the Rose Room.
“I hope you enjoy your time in Cape May,” she babbled as she placed one suitcase on the folding luggage rack, the other on the bed. “There’s so much to do in town, even at this time of year.”
“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Gormley clasped her hands in front of her rotund form.
“We’re familiar with the town,” Mr. Gormley added, looking around the room as he spoke. He walked over to the vase on the desk and touched the flowers.
Was he checking if they were real? Anna realized she’d raised her eyebrows and immediately changed her expression to a friendly smile.
“You’ve been here before? Do you live near here?”
“In New York, dear.” Mrs. Gormley, who hadn’t moved from her position near the window since they entered the room, answered. “State, of course, not city.”
“Wouldn’t live there,” Mr. Gormley said gruffly. “Now, you serve breakfast?”
She was in the process of repeating the hours when breakfast would be served when she heard the bell one more time. She took a minute more to mention a few places they might want to see in Cape May, then ran back downstairs to see who had come in. She expected her third set of guests, but the entrance hall was empty. Frowning, she peered into the lounge. Also empty. She walked back through the dining room into the kitchen and from there into the mud room at the back of the house.
Luke stood over a large farmhouse sink, washing out brushes and paint trays. He glanced over as she entered and acknowledged her with a quick nod but kept his focus on his cleaning.
“Did a guest wander through here?” she asked.
He shook his head. “That would be some wander, if they did. Why would you think that?”
“I thought I heard the bell, but there’s no one here.”
“Are you sure? It’s a big house.” He straightened up to look at her, water dripping from the brushes he held, and winked. “Or maybe it’s a ghost. You know all these old mansions are haunted, don’t you?”
She rolled her eyes and let out a loud sigh. “Oh no, not the old ghost stories again. Though”—she held up a finger—“I fully intend to take advantage of that when Halloween rolls around.”
She laughed and shook her head as she returned to the lounge, waiting for her last set of guests. She probably would have to get used to a few “ghosts,” running this big old house by herself.
3
Her final guests, a young couple visiting Cape May to make their wedding plans, had been picky. Maryanne thought the house would be right on the ocean, not just with an ocean view. Jim didn’t realize the B&B didn’t offer room service. They both thought the Blue Room would be… well… bluer.
Anna did her best to smile at each of the complaints and provide the best response she could. She even went so far as to offer to bring them tea to their room while they unpacked. They grudgingly accepted — but only if she could serve them Earl Grey.
Hopefully a few days in Cape May would relax them and cheer them up. On the other hand, a few days arguing over wedding details could just make them worse.
Oh fudge, she thought, as she sat in the lounge writing up her shopping list. Today was supposed to be a good day. She smiled and added fudge to her list.
Eventually, everyone was unpacked, settled in as best they could be, and off to see what this historic Jersey shore town had to offer.
Anna knew that happened to be a lot, for all ages and interests. The Gormleys announced their intention of taking advantage of what was left of the afternoon by walking along the famous Washington Mall, the main shopping street at the center of town. George Hedley mumbled something about seeing a friend as he slipped out, avoiding eye contact. The young couple were the last to leave but finally they, too, dropped by the lounge to let Anna know she could clean up their dirty tea cups now as they were heading out to meetings at a few local hotels.
Nice hotels, Maryanne stressed, glancing around the lounge. Anna took the hint, but not the bait, simply smiling and wishing them luck in their quest.
She made her way back upstairs to the rooms, back to what would become a daily routine for her, she knew. This wasn’t an easy job she’d taken on. Her parents were sure that at twenty-six she was too young for this much responsibility. Shows what they know, she thought as she climbed her twentieth flight of stairs that day — this was definitely a young woman’s work.
Perhaps she’d turn down the beds, that might be a nice touch. She also came prepared with small jars of roasted nuts and half bottles of wine to leave in each room to welcome the guests back when they returned that evening.
She visited each of her booked rooms, turning down the sheets, artfully placing the nuts and wine, checking the bathrooms to make sure each had plenty of the toiletries she provided. She left the Ocean Room for last.
It had been a tough afternoon, she kept telling herself. She’d been so excited that morning, looking forward to her first day. And she’d handled everything well, even the grumbles and complaints. But she now recognized that she’d been running on adrenaline, and it was draining. Fast.
She was exhausted, grumpy and worried. What if the young couple left her a bad review? That could ruin her business before it even started. Even worse, what if creepy George turned out to be some kind of pervert? What on earth convinced her it was a good idea to open her home to strangers, when she was all by herself?
Anna paused as she walked into the Ocean Room and let out a breath. Almost done. She took three steps toward the bed, tripped over George’s small suitcase, which was sticking out from under the bed, and went flying forward, ending up sprawled out on the multihued duvet. She raised her head to see the half bottle of wine roll to the edge of the bed then fall to the floor with a gentle plonk.
Phew! At least it hadn’t broken.
She rolled over and pushed herself off the bed, then rubbed her hands together. What was all over her hands? Nuts!
She spun around to see that while the wine had landed safely, the same could not be said of the jar of nuts. The lid must have come loose during flight. Walnuts, cashews and peanuts were sprinkled generously over the bed.
Anna shut her eyes to hold back the tears building up. Get a grip, she told herself. Drawing on her last reservoir of strength, she scooped up the soiled bed linens and tossed them into the hamper in the hall closet. She grabbed the other bedding set she’d purchased for this room and remade the bed, making sure no remnants of nuts hid under the mattress or on the floor.
Standing back to check her work, Anna realized that with the change in bedding, a further change in decor was required. She removed the pastel painting of the seagull then filled the gap on the wall by moving the photograph of old Cape May over the bed. The colors and style worked so much better with the sand-colored duvet.
It hadn’t been intentional, but she actually felt better about the room now. This wasn’t the first time she’d fallen into a good idea. Her research in Mexico had been launched when she’d literally tripped over an unusual potted plant in a Philadelphia kitchen garden. Learning how Mexican-American families used the plant in a variety of remedies led to her interest in tracing the migration of medicinal practices. Yep, even accidents could work out for the best.
Luke had left while she was dealing with the guests. Back downstairs, A
nna noted with appreciation that he’d left the mudroom spotless. If Luke could be that much of a perfectionist, then so could she.
She added a few more items to her shopping list before heading out. She would still offer the breakfast she had advertised: eggs, toast, jam, muffins. But she was going to add one more item, something all the guests would remember.
She tucked her shopping bags into her purse and pulled the front door locked behind her. No one had ever complained about her famous blueberry-almond scones. No one had ever figured out her secret ingredient, either.
Anna grinned to herself. They were going to be killer.
4
Thick crumbs of blueberry-almond scone lay scattered on the plate and across the table in front of George Hedley. A cup of coffee to the right of his plate had overturned and the white lace tablecloth was stained brown, a few drips trailing down the cloth toward the floor.
He hadn’t eaten his scrambled eggs and clumps of yellow were everywhere — strewn about the table, on the floor around him and clinging to his forehead where it lay flat on his plate.
Anna noticed all of this as soon as she entered the dining room to check on her first guest. Her hand shook violently as she dropped the bread basket she carried onto a sideboard. “Mr. Hedley? George!”
She ran to him, putting a hand on his back and shaking him. Should she try a Heimlich maneuver? When she realized he wasn’t moving, wasn’t even breathing, she held two fingers against his neck. Nothing.
She stepped back. Took a few breaths.
George Hedley was dead. In her dining room. The first guest she’d ever served breakfast to had died at the breakfast table. What had she done?
She took another step back, trying not to panic, thinking. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time she’d encountered death. Her work with poor and impoverished communities had exposed her to so much. She had to stay in control and think straight.
She must have told him the scones had nuts in them, hadn’t she? Could this be an extreme allergic reaction?
She rushed back to the still figure and shoved her hands into all the pockets she could find. He wore a suit with a white button-down shirt, his raincoat draped over the chair next to him, so there were a lot of pockets to go through. She grimaced a bit when confronted with his front trouser pockets but pushed ahead determinedly, ignoring the surprisingly cinnamon-y scent of his aftershave.
If he had such a strong allergy, he’d have an EpiPen nearby, that much she knew. But her search of his pockets revealed only a ballpoint pen, some business cards, an unused matchbook with a dark red and black image on it and some soggy tissues. Ew. She dropped those directly onto the floor.
She stayed where she was, squatting next to George. She felt herself shaking again and tried to focus.
She’d been in the kitchen since five that morning, on the spot ready to greet George with fresh-baked bread and scones when he showed up for breakfast promptly at seven.
She’d been in and out of the dining room since then. She couldn’t have left him alone for more than five minutes at any one time. Should she have been more attentive, more concerned about his well-being? Maybe he was already ill and she hadn’t even noticed. She tried to think back to when he’d first entered the dining room. Acting weird, as he always did, not making eye contact, rubbing his hands together nervously. Did she remember a little sweat on his top lip or on his forehead? She wrinkled her own forehead, trying to remember, but couldn’t.
The way the crumbles of scone were spread around the table, it looked like he had choked. Surely she would have heard something if he’d been choking, wouldn’t she? She pictured the coffee grinder, fruit juicer and mixer she’d used that morning and admitted to herself that the kitchen was not the quietest place in the house.
But it was where she’d find her phone. Anna jumped up and made for the kitchen.
An ear-shattering screech caused her to spin on the spot, turning back to the dining room. Maryanne stood in the far doorway, screaming for all she was worth. Anna ran over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.
“Maryanne, it’s okay, calm down. Let’s go into the lounge.”
“Okay?” Maryanne stopped to take a few sobbing breaths. “Okay? This is not okay! Is he…. Is he okay?”
Anna felt herself grinning fanatically at Maryanne’s choice of words. She was beginning to panic. “I don’t know, I need to call an ambulance. Please, can you go into the lounge?”
Jim’s heavy steps as he ran down the stairs preceded his entrance into the dining room. Anna braced herself for another onslaught, not sure how much more she could take before she started screaming, too.
Jim took one look around and said, “How can I help?”
Anna gave him a grateful look. “Please, take Maryanne into the lounge. I need to call an ambulance.”
As the two left the room, she approached George one more time. She really didn’t want to do this, but knew she had to. Slowly, reluctantly, she put out her hand, resting it against his cheek. He already felt cold to her.
She grabbed her cell phone from the kitchen and called 9-1-1.
5
Anna watched with growing dismay as the police took over her house. They’d arrived at the same time as the ambulance, and though the medics hadn’t stuck around, the police did. In fact, they grew in number.
The first officer to arrive followed the medics in as Anna directed them to the dining room. He stopped at the doorway and watched as they confirmed that George was, indeed, dead. She stood behind the officer, trying to peer around him to see what the medics were doing. He glanced down at her, then stepped aside.
“You can look if you want to, but I’d suggest you wait in the other room. This can’t be pleasant for you.” He stood with his feet planted, hands resting on his police duty belt as he spoke, but his tone was gentle and the furrows of his brow showed concern rather than anger.
“I’ll wait in the lounge, then.” She backed away, keeping her eyes on the black uniform that once again blocked her view of the dining room.
As the medics started leaving, more police officers arrived. A team of them traipsed through the lounge carrying metal boxes filled with whatever equipment they were using, then stuck yellow tape across the dining room and kitchen doors.
Steps on the stairs reminded her that she still had some living guests. She looked through the lounge’s open doorway to see the Gormleys standing, open-mouthed, at the bottom of the stairs, watching the parade of uniformed and plainclothes men and women moving back and forth across the hall.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gormley.” Anna ran over to them. “I’m so sorry. There’s been… it’s….” She looked around but could see no way to explain this. “It’s a tragic accident,” she finally finished.
“My dear, what is going on?” Mrs. Gormley asked in a quavering voice as she reached over to grab her husband’s hand.
He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, grabbing her small hands with his other. “These are police.” He said in his gravelly voice. He looked around. “Tell us what happened.”
Anna swallowed, ran her hands through her hair then along her jeans. Truly, she had no idea what had happened. “It’s one of the guests. He… he was hurt, I think.”
“You think?” Mr. Gormley repeated, frowning.
“Yes. It’s Mr. Hedley. He…” Anna put both hands on her face and looked up at the Gormleys.
She looked stunned, shaking ever so slightly. He, on the other hand, had narrowed his eyes and she could see Mrs. Gormley’s skin turning white where her husband was squeezing her hands. “George Hedley?” he asked.
Anna opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a strong voice.
“Ms. McGregor?”
She tore her eyes from the Gormleys to look at the tall, thin man who’d addressed her. Dark eyes watched her from a pinched face. His brown suit was well cut and should have fit him perfectly, but a notebook and pen protruded from one pocket and he’d stuffed something else
bulky into another, throwing off the balance of the suit. His green-striped tie added to the sense that he wasn’t a man who spent much time worrying about his appearance.
“I’m Detective Jerome Walsh. I’m going to need to ask you a few questions.” He led her back into the lounge and gestured toward her sofa, which she sank into gratefully.
Then immediately jumped up. “The Gormleys. I have to help them. They must be scared.”
“You don’t need to worry about that, we’ll talk to the Gormleys.” He nodded to someone standing behind Anna, and as the man moved out to the entrance hall, Anna realized it was the uniformed officer who’d been first on the scene. Who’d offered her a sense of comfort. “Patrolman Burley will fill them in and take care of them.”
Anna nodded and sank back down.
“Now”—Detective Walsh pulled the notebook from his pocket and consulted it—“you’re fairly new here in town, aren’t you?”
Anna nodded again, then stopped, feeling a fool. “Yes.” She spoke firmly, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “Yes, I moved in officially about three months ago.”
“And where did you live before then?”
“Philadelphia. I was… I was a student there.” She gave the detective the name of the university where she’d been studying and he wrote it down.
“So what made you buy an old Cape May Victorian mansion?” Walsh asked. He spoke in a casual manner, as if just having a conversation with a friend. The feeling was ruined when he added, “Seems an odd choice for someone your age.”
Anna raised one shoulder in acknowledgment of the statement. “Yes. Very. So I’ve been told. It wasn’t entirely my choice. I inherited the house, you see. By surprise.”
“A surprise inheritance?” Walsh looked skeptical. “That doesn’t happen very often.”