“Quite the contrary. Which cottage is this woman in?”
She peered around me. “Twelve.” She jangled a set of keys. “Would you accompany me, please. I see you’re well armed.” She motioned toward the butt of my gun sticking from my purse. “Just in case of trouble, you know.”
“Call an ambulance,” I told Mom, then followed Cheri across the thick grass to cottage twelve. Her keys weren’t needed. The door stood open in invitation.
We exchanged a tense glance, then cautiously stepped inside. “Mr. Granger?” Cheri’s voice sounded abnormally loud.
“You check the bedroom,” I said. “I’ll check the bathroom.”
I regretted my choice the moment I set foot in the white-tiled room. A man, I presumed to be Mr. Granger, lay in a tub of fading bubbles. He might have been handsome in life, but now his mouth hung open in agony as he had drawn his last breath. “I found him. How long until the authorities get here?”
“Oh, my. They’re on their honeymoon. How sad.” Cheri stopped in the doorway and clapped a hand over her mouth. She mumbled something, then removed her hand and repeated, “Twenty minutes. The resort is in the country for a reason. No one can relax with the sounds of sirens.”
Just cougars and screaming women. “We’ll have to keep others from entering. Go meet the ambulance, and I’ll sit outside the door.”
She nodded and hurried away.
I studied the corpse, not finding any reason for his death. Had the poor man had heart problems? He looked to be in his late twenties, but it wasn’t unheard of. I squatted and peered under the tub. Nada. One of the man’s hands was in the water, the other hanging limp over the side. I averted my gaze from water now devoid of bubbles. In the hand I could see clearly was what looked like a worm. I peered closer. What in the heck was it?
Maybe an inch long and gray in appearance it seemed to be the leg of an octopus. I shuddered. I’d tried pickled octopus once and couldn’t stand the taste or the texture. Maybe it was meant to be an aphrodisiac of some sort.
I left the bathroom and dragged a kitchen chair outside with me. The night carried a definite chill, that, combined with the vision I’d left in the cottage, left me shivering and wishing I’d worn my robe outside.
After what seemed a very long time, sirens wailed in the distance, joined shortly by a coyote’s howl. What other creatures did these woods hide?
Mom arrived and draped a blanket around my shoulders. I snuggled into the warmth and told her what I’d found.
“The poor man.” She scooted against me until we were both sitting one-cheeked on the chair. “His wife is devastated.”
“Can you buy pickled octopus in Northern Arkansas?”
She wrinkled her brow. “I’m sure you can at specialty stores. Don’t go looking for trouble, Stormi. I’m sure we’ll find out he died of natural causes.”
I shrugged. “I hope so.” Still, I’d learn to trust the niggling sensation at the base of my skull and it was shouting foul play, although I had absolutely no facts to base the feeling on.
Cheri led two police officers and two paramedics to the cottage, then stood next to me while they entered. “This is horrible.”
“Who found the body?” The burliest man I’d ever seen glared down at us.
I raised my hand. “I’m Stormi Nelson, author and private investigator.”
“Drumming up business, Miss Nelson?”
I made a noise in my throat. “No. I’m on vacation.”
“You’re the one who brought down the trafficking ring a few weeks back.”
“Yes.” I stood, keeping the blanket tight around me. “We heard Mrs. Granger screaming that her husband was dead, then Cheri and I came to check on him. He was dead when I found him.”
His pen scratched across a small pad he held. “How do you know? Did you check?”
“Look, officer…” I squinted to make out the name on his badge, “Rodriquez. When someone’s chest isn’t moving and their lips are blue, it’s a pretty good indication they’re dead.”
“Hmm.” He wrote something else, keeping the pad angled so I couldn’t see. “Just so long as you don’t decide to interfere in our investigation during your vacation. Stick around for a while, in case we have more questions.”
“We’re here for two weeks.” Two weeks that now promised to be long ones. “Are you suspecting foul play?”
“Just routine.” He gave a thin-lipped smile and joined the other officer inside.
“He isn’t telling us something.” Mom craned her neck to follow him.
“I didn’t see anything suspicious. I think he’s unpleasant in nature.”
“A murder will not look good for the resort.” Cheri paced the brick walk. “Not at all.”
“A man died,” I said, glaring. “There’s more at stake than bad publicity.”
She waved a hand, dismissing my words. “I know. I’m sorry, but these types of things don’t happen around here. I have no precedence for handling this type of situation.” She glanced toward the thick trees as another coyote howled. “That’s the type of injuries we have, rarely, but there has been a wild animal attack or two when hikers are careless.”
By midnight, we were informed we were free to return to our own cottage. I collapsed in bed and pulled up the thick quilt to rid myself of the last traces of a chill, and said a prayer for the poor widow left behind.
Pounding on the door woke me the next morning. I groaned and rolled over. Did no one on the resort sleep in? When the knocking continued, I tossed the blankets aside and shuffled to the front door.
Mrs. Granger stood on the bricked stoop. “I heard you were a PI?”
“Yes?” I’d recently obtained my license in order to snoop legally.
“I want to hire you to find my husband’s killer?”
I blinked away the sleep. “Excuse me? Did the authorities determine it wasn’t a natural death?”
“They haven’t said. May I come in?”
By now, my family was gathering. I let Mrs. Granger inside and motioned for her to sit at the table.
“I’ll make coffee,” Mom said.
There were only four chairs so the rest perched wherever they could and stared at the widow. She paled under the scrutiny and cleared her throat several times until Maryann brought her a glass of water. “Thank you. My name is Amber Granger. My husband, Seth, was in perfect health. I know this because,” she took a deep breath, “I made him get a full medical work up after I caught him cheating on me a few months before our wedding. All the tests came back fine. I think his cheating girlfriend killed him.”
I glanced at Maryann, then back to Amber. “Who is she?”
“I have no idea.” Amber set her glass down with a thump. “This was our second honeymoon in six months in a vain attempt to save our marriage.” She blinked rapidly. “I loved him dearly, but he was a cheating bastard.”
We had our number one suspect, if, in fact, Seth had been murdered.
She met my gaze. “Will you take the case? Money is not a problem. Seth left me very well off.”
The hole kept getting deeper, except experience had taught me it wasn’t usually the most likely suspect. “Sure, why not?” There went my vacation. I could have refused her request, but it might make a good novel, and I did want references for my investigating. “Where can we reach you?”
“Here.” She sighed. “We paid for a month. They put me in a suite in the main house. I couldn’t stay in that cottage a moment longer.” She declined coffee and let herself out.
“I thought we were here to have fun.” Cherokee rolled off the back of the sofa and onto the seat with all the dramatics of a wronged teenage girl.
“We can do all the things we planned,” Angela said, tossing me a dirty look. “Let them work.”
Suited me fine. My sister tended to go off half-cocked when ‘trying to help’.
Mom poured coffee and handed us all mugs. “What first?”
“I figure if the girlfriend did kill Seth, then she
must be a guest here. We somehow get a copy of the guest list and start interviewing.” I blew on my drink before taking a sip. I grimaced, missing the frozen coffee my friend Norma made.
“I’m going through with my massage,” Mom said. “Those gals like to talk. If there’s any gossip to be had, they’ll know it.”
“Great idea!” I’d keep my appointment, too. The vacation didn’t need to be a total waste.
I glanced at my watch. “Breakfast is in fifteen minutes.”
We all stampeded to our rooms. Since meals were included in the price, I, for one, did not intend to miss a single one. I struggled into a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved blue tee shirt, slipped my feet into flats, and met Mom on the way out the door. If the others missed the buffet, which ran for one hour, that was their problem.
I slipped my arm through hers. “I love you.”
“Ditto, child.” We practically skipped to the restaurant, excited beyond belief to eat a meal we didn’t cook. I had a freezer at home full of casseroles I’d baked while under stress, and Mom ran the bakery we were partners in.
By the time we sat at a table, the others trickled in and joined us. I almost didn’t recognize my sister without her makeup.
“Don’t look at me. I’m hideous,” she said. “But I have a facial right before my massage. Why put on makeup?”
In my opinion, she wore too much anyway. She was pretty enough without any.
I dug into my omelet and studied the other guests lining up at the buffet. Most looked to be couples on their honeymoons or on getaways. Maybe Amber was wrong about her husband’s death. Unless one of these people were cheating with Seth against their spouse, I would have to look in a different direction.
“We need a way of getting the guest list.” I set my fork and napkin on my plate. “It’s most likely on a computer.”
“A diversion?” Mom tilted her head. “Something that lasts long enough so you can go into the office?”
“Yeah.” I took my lip between my teeth.
“Leave it to me.” Mom stood.
Oh, no. The last time she created a diversion we’d almost been killed.
I frowned as she headed outside, then burst back through the doors.
“A cougar! Right out there. It’s stalking a child. Oh, somebody help.”
I almost lost my breakfast. But, it worked. Everyone in the restaurant, left like a giant wave. I went to the annex, pleased to see that the young man behind the counter was also gone. Hopefully, Mom’s ploy would work long enough for me to print off a list.
There were twenty-four cottages, all rented. I printed off the sheet I needed and rushed back to the customer side of the counter and went to join the milling crowd.
When Mom saw me, she shrugged, “I’m sorry. I must have been mistaken. It was only a cat.” She pointed to an orange tabby and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward our cottage. “Did you get it?”
“Yes. Try to be a little more believable with your diversions. They get crazier with each passing day.”
“But,” she pointed at the sky, “they work! Now, let’s go find a killer.”
3
I loved my mother’s enthusiasm, most times, but her zeal was a bit much before noon. We spread out the two pages I’d printed in the resort office on the kitchen table and stared at them as if a name would magically shout, “I did it!”
“It’s time for our massage. Maybe something will come to us while a stranger gets too personal.”
Mom laugh. “Pray we get Chatty Cathy.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” She sighed as if I was the densest person on the planet and headed out the door.
I scooped up the list and followed. “Who is Cathy?”
“It’s a doll. You pull her string, and she talks as often as you want her to. Before your time, I guess.”
Mom had dropped hints of feeling old ever since her serious boyfriend turned out to be the ring leader of the trafficking ring I had a hand in bringing down. At fifty one, she was still gorgeous with her trim figure and red hair. Someday, she’d find a man worthy of her. Someone like Dad, maybe, if God made more than one of the best men ever created.
I missed him every day. His unsolved murder played a big part in my playing the sleuth on a regular basis. I needed to see justice served.
I opened the door to a gazebo styled building and let Mom enter first. A girl with a too-big smile and a bouncy ponytail greeted us from behind a bamboo counter. “Welcome. I’m Amy. You must be Mrs. and Miss Nelson. Please, follow me.”
If everyone at Mountain Springs took happy pills, I was in the wrong place. I exhaled sharply and followed her to a room filled with sunshine and two massage tables. Two more overly-happy girls waited.
“This is Bri and Lisa. They’ll be taking care of you,” Amy said, closing the door behind her as she left.
“I’ll take you,” Bri said, motioning to one of the tables. “I’m a huge fan.”
Great. Maybe I could get her to spill the gossip on the other guests. I lay on my stomach and rested my face in the hole designed for that purpose.
Bri giggled. “I need you to strip down, first. You may leave your panties on.”
Oh. I glanced around for a place for a modest person to strip. In the corner, a three-paneled partition welcomed me. A few minutes later, wrapped in a thick towel, I resumed my place on the table. Mom, dropped her clothes where she stood and climbed onto her own table.
“Are you working on a new book?” Bri asked, kneading my shoulders.
“I’m mulling something over.” I groaned and closed my eyes as her fingers dug deeper.
“Have you thought of writing about a murder at a spa and resort? There are all kinds of quirky people staying here.” She moved her hands down my back. “With the death of Mr. Granger, you have a start. I’d love to be a character in one of your books.”
“Remember that quick trip you took to Vegas, Stormi?” Mom asked. “We don’t want a repeat of that. Or that time the crazed fan wanted you to hurry and write.”
Exactly. A woman, wanting to be involved in a mystery before dying of cancer, and killed someone in order to help me solve the crime. Bri’s remark was dangerously close to that very concept. Could it be possible to have the same motive here?
“I’m not thinking of books, really,” I said. “It doesn’t mix well with vacation.”
“Oh, pooh.” Bri started pounding with small, quick motions. “The things Lisa and I could tell you.”
“We aren’t supposed to gossip with the guests,” Lisa said.
“That’s all right.” The vinyl under Mom whispered as she moved. “We’re good at keeping secrets. Entertain us. You don’t have to use last names.”
I grinned. Mom was excellent at getting to the point.
“Well,” Bri began, “there are rumors that Mrs. Granger is now the recipient of a large insurance policy. Oops. I used her last name. Oh, well. That isn’t a secret.” Her hands stilled. “The head waiter is making eyes at Cheri, but he’s a few years too young, I’d say. The older couple, Bill and Ida are the cutest thing, all gushy gushy around people, but I’ve seen them when no one was looking and they hate each other!”
So far, none of them seemed to have a motive to kill Seth.
“Mr. Granger was very good looking,” Lisa said. “Maybe he was fooling around with one of the gals in that bridal party.”
“Good one, Lisa!” Bri resumed the massage, digging a little too hard for comfort. Was she using her elbow? “That’s right. We have a party of eight, counting the future bride, staying in cottage thirteen. The girl’s last hurrah before tying the knot. Oh, I know! He was making eyes at one of them, and his wife offed him.”
We were getting nowhere fast. “Are all the names listed on the guest list?”
“No, just the one who booked the room. Although, Cheri keeps a log somewhere for emergencies. How would you know that?”
“Uh, a guess. That’s a strange way of keeping record
s.”
Bri leaned close to my ear. “Some people who come here don’t want it known that they are here. Capice?”
I got it all right. The beautiful Mountain Springs was not all that it seemed. “Tell us some funny stories.”
“Well—”
“Good morning, ladies.” Cheri’s voice drifted through the room like an unwelcome mud slide. “I trust you are getting relaxed and ready for your facials. They start in fifteen minutes. I’m afraid I need to hurry your massage along as there are other guests waiting, and you’ve gone over your allotted hour.” A door closed.
“That woman is a burr in my bobby sock.” Bri pulled the towel from my waist to my shoulders.
I’d be scheduling another massage with the talkative Bri as soon as possible. “Do you give private massage sessions? I’ll pay you.”
“We aren’t supposed to. That would be grounds for dismissal.”
Keeping the towel around me, I sat up. “Too bad. I’d like to hear more about these lively characters. I’m afraid nosiness is one of my traits.” I smiled up at her. “If I use any of the information, changing the names, of course, I could name you in the acknowledgments of the book.”
She glanced at Lisa, who shrugged. “I have an opening day after tomorrow at nine a.m.”
It was better than nothing. I slid off the table and headed to the modesty panel to get dressed. My legs barely held me up. All tension was gone. Bri had done a wonderful job.
Angela burst into the room. “Way to hold things up.”
And, the tension was back. I sighed, mumbled an apology, and squeezed past her to head to my facial.
The next woman didn’t fit any of my preconceived ideas of what you needed to look or act like in order to work at the resort. Alice, according to her name tag, resembled a bull dog in shoulder width and facial expression.
I reclined in a padded chair mere seconds before a hot rag was dropped onto my face. “Ow!”
“Leave. It good for pores.” Her thick German accent garbled over me. “Don’t be baby.”
I doubted I would get any news out of her. Instead, I closed my eyes and let myself be tortured by waxing, tweezing, and some stringent liquid that stung my newly opened pores. What a woman does for beauty. When my torturer smeared a silky lotion over my face, I sighed in relief at the coolness.
Nosy Neighbor: All 7 complete Nosy Neighbor cozy mysteries PLUS: 2 short Christmas stories (A Nosy Neighbor mystery) Page 76