I hesitated.
Martha nodded and said, “So what story did they tell you about me?”
Embarrassed, I admitted, “That you have power of attorney.”
She laughed. “Honey, I was written out of the will long ago and never had power of attorney. BJ is just yanking your chain.” Then she glanced at me and took pity. She stopped cycling. “Listen, I wouldn’t even care, except for my children. I’ll speak to them, and I’ll also contact Gregorio’s attorney. Phil will handle everything on the legal end. Don’t worry.”
“Your children,” I repeated, realizing how devastated they would be at hearing about their father’s murder. “Oh, my gosh, your children!”
Martha sighed. “They’ll be all right. I came here to talk with Gregorio about our children. About spending more time with them. He’s been so busy with his new bimbo, he was neglecting them. Neglecting me is one thing. But you don’t dare neglect my babies.”
“How many children do you have?”
“Two. One is in graduate school. The younger one is trying to find himself, or something like that.” She pedaled again. “You know, I have all the money I need from some investments, so I didn’t need the money from the agency; but it wasn’t right, what Gregorio did. The agency was a partnership— his and mine. Only when we got the divorce, I found out he put everything in his name from the start, so I got nothing.”
“That’s horrible.” I thought for a moment. “How did you know he’d let you stay at the Inn when you showed up unexpectedly?”
“Oh, darling, Gregorio loves drama.” She paused and sighed. “He loved drama. I knew he couldn’t resist having what looked like two women fighting over him. He was in lothario heaven.”
The CD switched to the next track, and in the momentary silence, I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.
And the drone of another snowmobile.
Martha asked, “Did Gregorio pay for the rooms?”
“The first half. We never handled the second half. My fault. I didn’t get him to do it immediately.” My stupid, stupid fault.
“I’m sorry, but not surprised.” Martha shrugged. “And I’m extra sorry; after all, it’s because of your Murder Mansion the SOB is finally gone from my life. Now that he’s gone, I’m free to sign my authors again, if they want to come back. I’m the one who originally contracted with them anyway. Gregorio stole them from me.” She smiled widely. “Surprisingly enough, though, I won’t be picking up BJ’s option.”
Martha started pedaling again.
Taking the cue, I left the workout room and veered toward the kitchen. The back door opened, and Paul stomped the snow from his feet and stepped inside.
I smiled at my brother. “I am incredibly glad to see you. Have you had any breakfast yet?”
“Are you kidding? Jennifer hasn’t fed me in three days and I wouldn’t presume to ask for food when she’s this close to delivering.”
“Oh, you poor baby. You certainly look starved.” I patted the slight overhang of his stomach resulting from Jennifer’s alleged neglect. “Go on in and grab some grub.”
Paul hung his snow-flecked coat onto the hook by the back door. “What are you in the mood for first? Good news or bad?”
“Oh, please,” I said. “Good news only today. Tell me you have a new cute, little baby boy in your family.”
“Nope. Still hibernating in mommy’s tummy. No, the good news is no one’s been murdered in Silver City so far today.”
I sighed. “And I suppose I can’t avoid the bad news.”
“Wait, there’s more good news. I brought Henry Susselman up with me to fix your telephone line.”
“A telephone repairman. Definitely good news.”
He handed me a newspaper. Today’s Silver City Sentinel.
I flipped it open.
Stopped. Stared. Swore.
There, in big, black, block letters was the headline that could sink my new business:
LOCAL MURDER MYSTERY INN TROUBLE.
“Tell me this is a nightmare and I’ll be waking up soon.”
“Oh, it’s a nightmare, all right.” Paul leaned against the counter. “But it could go both ways. It’ll scare some people off, and possibly attract others.”
“I’m not sure I want guests who are attracted to a real murder.” I wondered how many potential customers would read this and decide to go elsewhere. But what could I do? “Did the bigger papers pick it up? The Salt Lake Tribune or Deseret News?”
“Not yet. But give ‘em time.”
“Who on earth told the newspaper?”
“You did.”
I looked up at him, indignant. “I never called anyone.”
“Nope, you never did. You didn’t have to. You waltzed into my den and told their new ace reporter.”
Stunned, I asked, “David What’s-his-name works for the Sentinel?”
“Yup. David Weston works for the Sentinel.”
I swore again.
“Yup.” Paul leaned close and whispered. “Watch your mouth or Mom’ll wash it out with soap.”
“Who do you think I learned it from?”
“Well, then watch out before Grandma hears you.”
I sighed. What two days ago would have seemed like a big deal, all of a sudden didn’t. “It’s okay to swear when your life turns into a nightmare.”
“Right.” Paul nodded in agreement. “In that case… where are the darn eggs?”
“That’s it? That’s the best you can do?”
He shrugged. “I’m housebroken. What can I say?”
* * *
Paul had only been gone from the dining room a few minutes when I heard more snowmobiles out front. I made my way to the front door and peered through the glass.
Snow was still falling heavily, but letting up. The flakes were smaller now, too. If we were lucky, the storm would be over by Sunday, when the guests were scheduled to leave.
I watched DeWayne, standing at the corner on a mound of snow, motioning the snowmobiles around the house.
Judging from the way Paul bolted from the dining room, he would undoubtedly be joining them as soon as he swallowed his breakfast.
I let the lace curtain fall over the window as I heard the back door opening. Behind me, some of the authors, bundled up, headed outside, shutting the door behind them. They probably wanted to be as close to the action as possible to talk murder.
I stepped into the kitchen. Liz and Stephanie were playing cards with Zach. Zach was grinning. “Give me all your threes.”
“You win too often,” said Liz, passing over two cards, and teased,“are you sure you’re not cheating?”
Zach laughed. “I don’t have to cheat to beat you, Aunt Liz.”
“Is that right?” She stood and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottled water. She glanced toward the window. “You’ll never believe this, Vicki.”
“What?”
She motioned me over. When I stood at the window, she pointed and said, “I do declare that looks like our grandmother.”
“Grandma’s out in the snow discussing murder?” I spotted her immediately in her dark maroon coat, clustered with the authors halfway to the carriage house. “She’s gonna freeze.”
“She’s got love to keep her warm. Isn’t that sweet? She and Dr. Ray are holding hands.”
I looked out. “Well, touching mittens, anyway.”
“Mittens, whatever, their hands are in close vicinity with each other. Sheesh, Vicki, you take the fun out of things.”
I smiled. “Sorry.”
“I’m going back to play with Zach.”
And I was going out to see what was so fascinating.
Two sheriffs tacked yellow crime scene tape across the carriage house door. A third laid down a ruler onto the snow and a fourth snapped a picture of it. The ruler must have been for scale, but I couldn’t see what they were measuring with it. The other deputies were still inside the carriage house, gathering evidence.
As I came up
behind the group of authors (and Grandma), I heard Martha say, “I can’t believe it was one of us.” It was easy to hear her, as the snow was falling quietly now. “How could it be someone we’ve worked with for years? Gregorio may have deserved to die, but it couldn’t have been any of us.” Martha paused for a moment. “Unless it was BJ, and she started screaming afterward.”
“I think it was Kevin Higgins.” Clark Harmon shook his head, his breath puffing out visibly before him. “He already attacked Gregorio once. He slashed both Lonny and Alexis. He ran away and cut the phone lines. I believe he’s the murderer.”
“Kevin?” Garrett shook his hooded head. “He was angry, but I don’t feel he was capable of murder. He’s all braggadocio and no substance.”
Martha said, “All hot air and no balloon?”
Garrett nodded. “You got it. All talk and no walk.”
Dr. Ray shook his head. “I think anyone can be pushed to murder if they feel passionate enough about something. Even us. It looks like Kevin, but that’s not necessarily the truth.”
Garrett scowled again. “It’s some psychopath.”
“You are absolutely right, Garrett,” Martha agreed wholeheartedly. “Only a psychopath could do something like this. Or a woman scorned. Gregorio’s the straying kind. And the first discovery of it is the worst. I should know. I could have killed the SOB myself back then.”
“How about now?” Garret asked teasingly.
Martha shook her head. “I stopped caring a long time ago.”
Garrett scrunched his lips for a moment. “I think it’s someone not staying at the Inn at all. Maybe visiting just long enough to punch out Gregorio. Some drifter, perhaps.”
“That’s far too coincidental,” said Dr. Ray.
Grandma gazed up at him, like I’d seen her look at no one else besides my grandfather, which was somewhat disconcerting. I suspected her cheeks were flushed with more than just the cold.
Dr. Ray said, “And what was this very coincidental person doing on the mountain in the middle of what I heard the police chief say was the worst storm in a decade?”
Garrett said, “If we knew that, we’d know who the murderer is.”
“I think we do know,” Clark said. “Kevin Higgins.”
“That’s just so… obvious, darling.” Martha touched Clark on the arm. “You weren’t here to see him attack Gregorio.”
It seemed obvious to me. Yes, Kevin was the murderer. But I wasn’t an author with an overly active imagination.
Clark smiled. “Perhaps that makes me more objective.”
Dr. Ray repeated, “It could be any of us.”
“Here comes an officer.” Grandma motioned.
I looked up. Two of the four dark-blue-coated deputies were working their way through the snow from the carriage house.
“Hey, Joe, give us a hand,” one of the other two called out, and the man detoured off to join the other two men.
The second deputy turned out to be a woman, and could also have been Halle Berry’s stunt double. “Which of all y’all is the owner of the Who-Dun-Him Inn?”
Chapter Fourteen
I put up my hand and smiled half-heartedly.
She nodded pleasantly at me, and turned to the gaggle of authors. “Just wanted to let you know we cannot prevent you from leaving, but we’d appreciate it if you stayed until we take secondary statements. For now, we’d like to ask y’all to go back inside.”
As the authors began to move away, I said, “Yes?”
The woman asked, “Are you Paul Ross’s sister?”
When I nodded, she said, “I’m Deputy Mary Beth Shannon. The man who was with me is Lt. Joe Josephson; can you believe parents would burden a child with a name like that? We’ll be here about another hour, and then we’ll release the scene back to your brother.”
“Do I need to…?” I started, but then stopped. I wasn’t sure what exactly to ask. “I mean, will the body…?”
She smiled at me gently. “We’ll transport the body as soon as the crime scene photos are completed. We’ll be here dusting for prints and doing all the other technical sheriff stuff. Other deputies have begun a neighborhood canvass, talking with your neighbors or leaving them notes to contact us, to see if anyone saw or heard anything last night. Once the scene is released, I recommend getting a specialized cleaner in here. I can give you a referral.”
“A cleaner?” I grimaced at the thought.
“Not a pleasant thought,” Garrett said, startling me. He stayed outside. “But with this kind of mess, it’s advisable.”
This kind of mess? I stared at him, feeling queasy.
Deputy Shannon tilted her head. “These guys are not as sensitive as they should be. You’ll be all right. As soon as the cleaners are done, no one will ever know anything happened.”
Garrett said, “Though with a place like the Who-Dun-Him Inn, it might be a drawing card.”
“Go inside, sir.” Mary Beth Shannon shook her head.
Garrett smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to question me first?”
“Wouldn’t you like to get yourself put in handcuffs?”
When Garrett started to speak up, the woman silenced him with her own delightful drawl. “Now, y’all know better than that, sir. This is not a request.”
Mary Beth won the battle of the drawls.
“Yes, ma’am.” Garrett grinned, saluted, turned smartly, and retreated to the Inn.
“Men.” Deputy Shannon rolled her eyes and her southern drawl dripped over me like honey. “If they weren’t so darned sexy, we’d have to shoot ‘em on sight.”
* * *
Back inside the Inn, I could hear the authors in the parlor. Grandma was sitting close to Dr. Ray on the loveseat and she waggled her fingers at me and winked. I smiled back. Good, ol’ Grandma. Poor Dr. Ray. He didn’t have a chance.
I was afraid that, when he got on the plane home, Grandma might be heartbroken. Or maybe this was her version of a fling. Never having seen Grandma on the prowl for a husband, I wasn’t sure; but I had to trust she was old enough to handle things.
From the corner of my eye, I caught movement on the stairs. Alexis was descending, her unbandaged hand clutching the banister. She was still moving carefully and appeared incredibly pale from her migraine.
We’d have to tell DeWayne and the deputies she was up so he could question her.
I met her at the parlor door. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Better, I think. My head still hurts a little, and my hand, too, but I’m much better. Thank you.” Her voice wasn’t as convincing as her words might lead me to believe.
Garrett and Dr. Ray stood at the same time, and Garrett pointed to the loveseat. Alexis sat and he joined her, putting his arm around her shoulder.
As she sank into the cushioned seat, Garrett said, “There’s bad news, Alexis. Gregorio was murdered last night.”
Her face went whiter, if that were possible. “That’s not funny, Garrett.”
It took a minute for us to convince her.
“I just can’t believe it. Was it that horrible man who attacked him in the dining room and cut me? Have they found him yet?”
“That’s precisely the subject of our little discussion group,” Martha said. “Clark and I think it was…” she paused as she revised her story from it having been BJ, “…BJ’s husband. Garrett has the preposterous notion it’s some unknown drifter, and Nicholas thinks it could be one of us.”
“But why would any of us want to kill Gregorio?” Alexis asked, obviously confused. She closed her eyes. “Are the police here?”
Clark said, “Yes. The police chief and deputy showed up last night. The deputy was the one who questioned us. And there are lots of sheriff’s deputies running around, being efficient.”
Dr. Ray studied Alexis. “Did you take medication last night, my dear? Because you seemed under the influence of a narcotic.”
She nodded.
“You seem quite sensitive to it. I’d be careful
in the future with what you take.”
I wondered what the good doctor would say if he knew his loveseat partner was the one who medicated Alexis.
All of a sudden, I had an urge to make sure my son was all right. I went to the kitchen to see if he, Liz and Stephanie were still playing cards. They weren’t. I found them in the basement, working on a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle we received last Christmas. They set it up on the game table in the far corner of the family room. The puzzle had ragged outer edges and extra pieces; and was titled “The Impossible Puzzle.” Very literally, a needle in a haystack.
Which is what it must feel like trying to figure out who the murderer was if you rejected the logical choice.
Stephanie was watching Saturday cartoons on the television set. “Hi, Vicki. How go the authors?”
“Still figuring out whodunit.” I sat down beside Zach and reached for a puzzle piece, placing it alongside others, turning it this way and that, and trying to make it fit. “Though why, I don’t know. It’s gotta be Kevin.”
Zach looked up and his eyes sparkled. “I think we need a watchdog to keep us safe.”
“Nice try, squirt, but no.”
He grinned, looking at Liz and then at me. “I’ll quit asking if you can tell me ‘no’ in five different languages.”
I looked pointedly at Liz, then back at Zach. I counted off on my fingers, one at a time. “Okay. You asked for it. Here goes. No— English. No— Spanish. No— Portugese. No— Italian. And, fifth, no— British.”
“No fair, Mom. You’re cheating. I’m going to keep asking.”
I grinned at him. “I kind of suspected you would.”
“Vicki,” Liz said as she plopped three puzzle pieces in place in quick succession, “I was wondering. After the storm lets up, I’d like to stay and visit for a few days. If that’s okay with you.” She didn’t look up from the puzzle.
“I’d love to have you, but are you sure you want to stay longer? I have lots of authors who are trying to go home.”
“Dying to get out is what I heard,” Liz wisecracked.
Stephanie said, “Not funny,” as Grandma laughed.
I caught Liz’s eye and asked, quietly, “What’s going on?”
Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn Page 14