Valentine's Blizzard Murder

by Linnea West

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Other Books in the Series

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  The end credits rolled on the romantic comedy on the television and suddenly I could hear the wind screeching by outside the window. When the weather guy said a winter storm was coming, I guess he hadn't been kidding. I grabbed the remote from the side table and flipped to the local station where a large, red warning box was scrolling across the bottom of a sitcom rerun.

  BLIZZARD WARNING

  I glanced over at Clark, who was sitting on the other end of the couch and at Mandy, who was in the arm chair. They both looked a bit worried and I couldn't really blame them. Minnesotans take a winter storm warning with both a healthy dose of skepticism and a feeling of unnecessary preparation. Once the weather report this morning had firmed up the idea that a winter storm was actually coming and had been upgraded to a blizzard, my father had run out to stock up on candles, some bottles of water, batteries, and a few other necessities. Not everyone does that, I'm sure. But not everyone runs a bed and breakfast and wants their guests to have a pleasant experience no matter what Mother Nature has in store for them.

  My parents had five children and were living in a large, beautiful, old Victorian house. When most of us moved out, they didn't want to let go of the place. They were already familiar with the hospitality industry because they also own a motel in Shady Lake. So instead of selling, they renovated the house and opened up the Shady Lake Bed & Breakfast. And by a cruel twist of fate, I am living with them once again at the age of thirty.

  I left Shady Lake after high school and thought I'd never look back. I went to college and then moved to the Twin Cities with my husband Peter. I was working an office job in marketing and living it up at clubs, brunch, and fancy exercise classes.

  And then my entire world crumbled down around me when Peter died in a car accident one morning on his way to work. It was like everything stopped. My job became meaningless. I couldn't sleep because the apartment just seemed so big and empty once I was alone. All of a sudden, I was scared of the dark.

  Once my parents understood the full spectrum of how I was doing, they jumped into action and drove up to get me. When they appeared on my doorstep that morning, I had been sitting up in a chair most of the night with a flashlight in hand trying to to simultaneously get some sleep and stay up in case the darkness tried to close in on me.

  Now almost a year later, I'm here in the living room with Clark Hutchins, one of the men I've been casually seeing, and Mandy, my best friend. And I'm slowly healing. I'm not going to live with my parents forever, but right now it is my safe place to land.

  When the house was turned into a B&B, my parents built an addition on the back over a garage where they could live with Tank, my youngest brother who is still in high school. In the great state of Minnesota, owners must live on site in their bed and breakfast. The only problem was that they thought they'd be empty nesters once Tank moved on in another year. Instead, I moved in and took over the library they built in the addition.

  "Tessa, I should probably try to get Mandy home," Clark said, taking my hand. "It sounds nasty out there."

  Listening to the wind, I knew he was right but feeling his hand holding mine, I didn't want him to. Clark frequently took my breath away. He was a hot commodity in Shady Lake because he only moved here a few years ago to teach at the high school. He was literally tall, dark, and handsome and I kept wondering what he saw in me. No matter what, I was having fun going out with him.

  "You don't have to drive me," Mandy said. "I'll just stay here and go home tomorrow."

  Mandy is my best friend and she looks a lot like me, but only the me that is living my best life. She owned the Donut Hut and while that was the leading cause for my rapidly expanding waistline, she somehow managed to not overindulge. In fact, she managed not to indulge hardly at all. But while she is the supplier of most of my sweets, she is also the one who has a salad every day for lunch and encourages me to do the same.

  We have been best friends for a very long time. In high school, Mandy and I would hang out just the two of us a lot; we didn't really have other friends. Mandy became more like a sister than a friend. After high school, though, we walked totally different paths. I left Shady Lake, but Mandy stayed. She took over the Donut Hut from her parents, who retired to Florida. She even moved into the apartment above the Donut Hut and she lives there now with her long time boyfriend, Trevor.

  "Of course you can stay, Mandy," I said. "But let's go downstairs and actually get a look at what the weather is like outside."

  Clark stood up and stretched his arms over his head before offering me his hands. I put my small hands in his large, warm hands and he pulled me up off of the couch. I lingered in the moment, not wanting to let him go. His dark eyes sparkled as he searched my face and a big smile spread across Clark's face.

  After a moment, I ripped myself away from his gaze and went to grab Clark's jacket from the little coat rack. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and we headed out into the B&B and down the stairs. The instant we emerged in the front entry hall, it was clear that the blizzard was here.

  Even though it was only mid-afternoon, it was so dark that it looked like it was the middle of the night. Outside, we couldn't even see down the driveway because it was blowing snow so hard. The tree branches were whipping around so hard that I was surprised they weren't just ripping right off of the trees. I glanced at Clark's face and I could see that he really didn't want to go outside. I can't say I blame him.

  "You aren't going to try to drive home, right Clark?"

  My dad strolled in from the living room where he had been watching the storm out of the large picture window. My dad is an avid bird watcher, so much that the B&B is bird themed with each guest room being named after a bird common to Minnesota. Normally, he watches the bird feeders outside the window but tonight they were swinging violently in the wind.

  "Hello Mr. Schmidt," Clark said. "I was just about to head out before the storm gets worse."

  "No you won't," my dad said. "You can stay here tonight. There's a pull-out sofa in Tank's room."

  Tank was lucky enough to stay in what was going to be a guest room once he graduated high school. It was a large suite with an attached bathroom and even a little living room space. I tried not to be jealous since my bedroom was so small I could almost touch both walls when I stood in the middle of the room. But I also knew that no one had planned on me living here and hopefully I wouldn't be here for long.

  Clark hesitated and I could see some em
otions dancing across his face. He was trying to decide whether to try to be the macho guy who stands by his decision or to be the grateful guy who didn't want to go out in the storm. After wrestling silently with his thoughts for a moment, he gave a curt nod.

  "Thank you Mr. Schmidt," he said. "I'll gladly take you up on that offer."

  "Why don't you go up and help Tank get the couch set up," my dad said. "I'm going to put these girls to work setting up some extra chairs at the dinner table for tonight."

  Clark grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze before he hung his jacket up in the entry way and bounded up the stairs, back towards the family section of the B&B.

  "We are full up girls," my dad said once Clark was out of sight. "Between Valentine's Day being this weekend and Jake Crawford staying here, all of the rooms are full and everyone will be stuck here for dinner plus a few extras, like Mandy and Clark."

  I had almost forgotten about Jake Crawford. He was originally from Shady Lake and was here for a few days on his honeymoon. He was also a minor celebrity, but in a small town like this, any bit of celebrity is cause for a huge celebration. Jake had moved to California after high school and since then, he had starred in a few huge commercials and even had a minor role on a popular sitcom. His parents still lived here with his grandparents so when Jake got married and his grandparents weren't able to travel to the wedding, Jake set up a trip back to Shady Lake as part of his honeymoon.

  Unfortunately, that meant he brought his wife Anna with him. After they had checked in, I had tried my hardest to steer clear of her because she was not from a small town. As a lifelong, big city, California girl, Anna had not been happy to come to Nowheresville Minnesota as part of her honeymoon. She and Jake visited his parents and grandparents a few times and Jake had taken her on a small tour of Shady Lake, but judging from her face when she came back ten minutes later, it had not gone well. Anna spent most of her time since on her laptop or smart phone. I'm not exactly sure what she is doing all of the time, but she seems to be scrolling and clicking away like she knows what she is doing.

  I looked behind my dad into the living room and saw that the room was otherwise empty. Anna must be up in her room. Or maybe, if we were lucky, she was stuck out somewhere in the storm and wouldn't be able to make it back. Hopefully she would be stuck somewhere with Jake because he wasn't really what you would call a pleasant person either.

  Whenever Jake came back to Shady Lake, he was the definition of "big fish in a small pond." He expected everyone to bend over backward to accommodate him. After all, didn't we know he was a big star? Didn't we all see him every Tuesday night on the television? Wasn't he gracious to come back and visit all of us lowly Shady Lakers? From what I gather, it had been bad enough to simply encounter him around town. Now that I was back and had to deal with him at the B&B, he was almost unbearable.

  I snapped back to attention, realizing my inner rage was making me zone out. My dad was still droning on about dinner and how we would accommodate everyone and Mandy stood politely listening, nodding her head every once in a while to show how interested she was pretending to be.

  "Okay Dad," I said. "Mandy and I really should get those arrangements going."

  I grabbed her sleeve and gave her a tug towards the dining room before my dad could ramble on any more.

  Chapter Two

  The dining room was one of my favorite rooms in the B&B. Down the middle of the room was a giant, Craftsman style dining table. It was beautiful and it was polished regularly to maintain a beautiful shine. It was surrounded by twelve matching chairs and I was almost a little bit sad that we would have to squeeze some ugly folding chairs around it too.

  But as beautiful as the table was, my favorite thing about this room was that it was always decorated seasonally. When I moved back in, I took over decorating this room specifically because it brought me such joy. I loved anything that had to do with holidays, any holiday really. Taking over the seasonal decorating was my favorite part of working at the B&B.

  As Valentine's Day was so near, the dining room was currently decked out in hearts and red and pink. One wall had a giant china cabinet and inside I had interspersed little wooden hearts painted red and pink. On the other wall, above a buffet table that was stained to match the dining table, I had hung up a banner of red and pink felt hearts. On the buffet table was a bouquet of roses and a small sign that declared Happy Valentine's Day.

  The challenge to decorating the room was to do it in a way that was understated and elegant because if you put one too many hearts in there all of a sudden the vibe changes from a classy bed and breakfast to that of an elementary school Valentine's Day party. Whenever I opened up the double doors that lead into the dining room, I was pleased to see just how good it looked.

  And now we were going to spoil it with some old, gray folding chairs that my parents had bought from Shady Lake Lutheran Church one year when the church bought new tables for the Gathering Room and got rid of all of the old ones. They were sturdy chairs and were actually quite comfortable, as far as folding chairs go. But they were ugly as sin and would totally clash with my beautiful decorations.

  I let out a big sigh and turned to Mandy, who was busy chomping on a piece of gum while she inspected the decorations. Miss Good Healthy Habits had one gross, decades-long habit that she couldn't quite get over. Mandy was a gum chewer. No, not a gum chewer. She should be called a gum chomper. She was forever chewing her gum so loudly that I can't hear myself think. I've given up trying to tell her to stop because it does no good. She just can't quit gum.

  "I'll go get the chairs if you start trying to figure out where they all will go," I said. Mandy nodded and I left her to her chomping while I ran down to the basement. The door to the basement was by the back door in the kitchen, so I pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen where I almost walked straight into Dawn Wilder, another guest in the bed and breakfast.

  "I just wanted to lend a hand," Dawn was saying as I came in. "I love cooking at home and I just thought I could help out here."

  My dad had a forced smile on his face. Typically, my father was a cheerful guy, but when he was in the kitchen, he just wanted everyone to get out of his way. At least he was a bit more polite than when I got in his way.

  "That is very nice of you Dawn," my dad said through clenched teeth. "But part of my job is to cook for the guests and the guests are supposed to eat and enjoy what I cook. You are a guest, so you can just go out there and enjoy the dinner, as soon as it is done."

  Dawn's bottom lip pushed out until it protruded out past her chin. She shook her head, which made her dark brown braid bounce all around her shoulders. After a moment, her face shifted into annoyance, her eyebrows knitting together and her mouth set in a firm line.

  "Isn't part of your job also to make me happy as a guest?" she demanded. "What would make me happy is to help you cook."

  My dad turned slowly to look at Dawn and my mouth dropped open. That was some crazy audacity coming out of this woman. She was tiny, only coming up to my shoulder but she was full of fire. Was she just so bored that she needed something to do?

  I looked at my dad's face just as his eyes shifted to me. The confusion in his eyes floated towards me and I decided to take my turn to discourage her before my dad ran her out of the kitchen by force.

  "Miss Wilder, I could show you our selection of board games otherwise we have a bookshelf of books in the living room that are free for the taking," I said, shifting into my customer service voice.

  "Hello there Tessa," Dawn said. Something inside of her seemed to shift once she realized that there was someone else here to force her out of the kitchen. "That is a sweet offer. I suppose I will go take a look at the bookshelf. Thank you for the suggestion."

  She stood and stared at us for a moment before she turned and left the kitchen. The door swinging back and forth behind her a few times before it finally shut. I turned and looked at my father, who was already back at the stove stirring the m
ultiple pots that were simmering.

  "That was weird," I said as I walked towards the stove. "What's for dinner Dad?"

  "Oh I'm just cooking up some pad thai," my dad said casually, like that was something he always made. Actually, I was kind of assuming he had never made this before, but I wasn't going to ask because when my dad was in the kitchen cooking, you don't ask questions. "Thank you, by the way. That woman just would not leave and I didn't know how to nicely get her to leave."

  I laughed as I took in the delicious smells that were wafting off of the stove. Somehow my father was making pad thai that was at least as good if not better than any I'd ever had before. I guess I hadn't tasted it yet, but I was sure that it would be amazing. My dad had this ability to just decide to make something and then totally nail it on the first attempt. He was just lucky, I guess.

  "I'm going to head down to the basement to get the chairs, okay?" I said as I gave him a one-arm hug around his shoulders. He briefly tapped his head down onto mine, which was as much of a hug as I was going to get while he was cooking.

  Just past the eating nook in the kitchen was a door leading down to the basement. When I was younger, I hated going down there. The staircase isn't so bad. There is a light switch at the top that lights a single bulb hanging over the stairs that lit them up quite nicely.

  But once you get to the bottom, it is a different story. The basement is just a series of dank, dark, concrete rooms and the lights were sparse. Every few yards, there was a light hanging from the ceiling that would only turn on with a pull chain. When I was really young, I couldn't reach the pull chains so I avoided coming down here as much as I could.

  And then I made the mistake of watching a scary movie as a teenager where there was a scene of the killer running up a set of stairs and for some reason, my mind linked that to the basement stairs. So even once I was big enough to pull the chains, I avoided the basement because my mind just flashed back to that movie.

  Now, I had been able to set aside the scary movie, but losing Peter had brought about an inexplicable fear of the dark. I had big, heavy-duty flashlights stashed anywhere I might need them. One weighs down my purse, another is taking up most of the glove compartment of my station wagon, and another is here, at the top of the basement staircase on a shelf along with a hammer, a jar of nails, and some other things that were routinely needed around the B&B.