by Ami Diane
“Really? I’m glad good taste still exists decades later.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s nice the classics are still appreciated.”
As she pulled a silver bell from the box, the memories of home and holidays past caused her chest to tighten. Perhaps she’d been too eager to jump into the holiday festivities.
Ella added a few ornaments to the garland already draped over the mantle. Next, she and Rose added a couple strings of large bulb Christmas lights to the tree and a string of bubble lights to really give it that 1950s holiday vibe. A few bulbs had burnt out, but overall, the magical effect remained.
Ella’s fingers were just draping the hook of an ornament on a branch when someone knocked at the front door.
“Who on earth would that be?” Rose tried to peer out the darkened windows.
Ella set aside her box of ornaments and strode toward the entrance hall as another knock came. She tugged the heavy door open, immediately grinding her teeth against the bitter chill that swept in.
Evelyn Hanks stood on the stoop, her eyes and nose the only visible features between her hood and knot of scarves.
“Evelyn?”
“Can I come in?”
Ella shook herself from her stupor. “Of course.”
After Ella slid aside, Evelyn stamped her boots on the rug just inside while Ella shut the door.
The woman’s eyes darted about the entryway, eyeing the ornamental carvings, oriental rug, and opulent chandelier. Her hood fell back, letting her fluffy brown hair float free.
“Rose is in the parlor. Do you want me to fetch her?”
“No, that’s okay. I was just wondering if I could borrow some flour.” Her hands fidgeted with her gloves.
“Of course. I’m sure Rose won’t mind. Can’t promise there’s much left.”
Ella excused herself and hurried back to the kitchen. Fishing through a cupboard, she located the large burlap sack, half of what it had been the day before. She debated on whether to pour some into a separate container and give that to Evelyn rather than hand over the whole bag. However, she didn’t know how much the woman needed.
Erring on the side of caution, Ella snatched the entire bag, figuring it wasn’t that heavy with half of it gone. Seeing the sack, Evelyn, smiled—an actual genuine smile.
“I’ll bring it back when I’m done. Shouldn’t need more than a few cups.”
“Oh. Do you want me to pour some out into a container, then?”
“No. This is better. In case I mess up.” Hugging the bag, Evelyn slipped back out into the cold darkness.
When Ella returned to the parlor, Rose had made considerable progress on the tree. She informed the innkeeper about loaning out the flour, and Rose waved the matter away.
They wiled away the rest of the evening, decorating and chatting, and for a few hours, Ella forgot about murders and break-ins. With each ornament came a story, a special memory attached.
When they finished, they stood back to admire their work. It wasn’t the themed trees Ella was accustomed to, but it was alive with memories and love which made it all the more beautiful.
When it was time to call it a night, Ella slowly mounted the grand staircase and psyched herself up for what she would do next. She’d put it off long enough.
Light seeped beneath Flo’s door, but the air was absent of any noise—which could be either good or bad, Ella hadn’t decided.
Flo answered on the second knock.
“Oh good. You’re fully clothed,” Ella said.
The older woman glared behind her thick glasses. “Did you want something or did you come to mock me?”
“Can’t I do both?”
“If that’s how you want it to be, then let’s talk about that mess you call a sweater.”
“Hey, Wink gave it to me.”
“Exactly. It’s as ugly as the day she knit it.”
Ella took a breath and held it for three Mississippis. Then she forced a pained smile across her face.
“What’s wrong with you? Constipated? I told you to stop eating that banana bread.”
“No. This is my ‘I need a favor’ face.”
“Well, it’s the stuff of nightmares. Put it away before your face gets stuck like that.”
Ella dropped the strained expression.
“So,” continued Flo, “what’s the favor? Do I need to sit down for this?”
“No, but I think I might need to.” Ella took another deep breath then relayed the information she’d learned after her conversation with Pauline.
The old boarder’s face had gone through a range of emotions, ranging from delight to curiosity—but mostly delight—at the prospect of discussing weaponry.
“Do you know of any gun that shoots a 7.9mm bullet and with a low enough trajectory to not leave an exit wound?”
Flo tapped her chin. “Hm, probably looking at .32 caliber… could be .32-20 Winchester round… probably a rifle…. Yes, a few come to mind. But won’t know for sure without testing them.”
“I was afraid you’d say that. Can you take me to your shooting range tomorrow?”
“It’s just a clearing in the woods and might be a bit hard to manage in this weather.” The creases in her forehead smoothed out. “But… yes, that could work. Sal says there’s supposed to be a break again tomorrow. It’ll take me a bit to set up. I’ll get you when it’s ready.”
Ella hesitated. “Nothing that’d get us in trouble, right?”
“‘Course not. You think I want that ol’ law dog nabbing more of my guns?”
As curious as Ella was to know just how many weapons the sheriff had confiscated over the years, she decided that was another discussion for a different day. “What are we going to shoot at that’s similar to a head.” She winced at her own words.
Flo’s fingers traveled to her chin again as they both lapsed into thought. “How ‘bout a watermelon? Ain’t that supposed to be similar to a human head?”
“Maybe. I think I remember reading that on the Internet, how it’s similar to the human cranium. And if you can’t trust the Internet as a reliable source of information, then, well, what can you trust?” Her sardonic words were lost on the older woman.
Ella cleared her throat. “Anywho, I don’t remember seeing any watermelons in the conservatory or at Stewart’s.”
“Leave that to me.”
An inward battle waged in Ella’s mind, especially when she considered leaving the details to Flo. However, if this was the only way for her to test out a possible murder weapon, then she’d just have to punch her dance card with the devil.
With nothing left to discuss, Ella bid her friend good night and retreated to her own bedroom. Whatever tomorrow may bring, it was certainly going to be interesting. She just hoped it would produce answers.
She was at a loss of what to do about the vandal who’d broken into Grandma’s Kitchen. Sitting on the edge of her four-poster bed, she opened the memo app on her phone and created a new note. Tapping her thumbs across the small keyboard, she typed two words: clues and suspects.
In a haphazard style, she typed shorthand, describing the scene, the footprints in the kitchen that didn’t lead anywhere with the approximate size and tread of the suspect’s shoes. Next, she typed the question, How did they get in? She added that there weren’t footprints out back nor that the lock had been jimmied.
After that, she made a list of who had a key for the building. It was short, with only three people, including herself. Under suspects, the cursor blinked. She stared at it, debating whether or not to add Horatio’s name. In the end, she decided against it, leaving it blank for now.
Lastly, she typed in motives with another question mark at the end. That too, she left blank. Without more clues to go on, she felt helpless. And worse, she worried Wink might still be a target.
Maybe if she made progress on the front of finding Erik’s killer, she’d feel some sort of accomplishment. Also, a small part of her wondered if the two incidents wer
en’t connected. On the surface and in every respect, they seemed as related as Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger appeared to be in the movie Twins.
However, the events happened so closely in relation to one another it felt too coincidental. If she dug past the surface to a deeper level, they might be connected.
CHAPTER 15
SHORTLY AFTER WAKING on Christmas Eve morning, Ella fumbled to pull her sweatshirt over her head using half numb fingers. Having a room upstairs in the inn made for a great view but made for horribly cold mornings. The manor had been upgraded with central air at some point—but the furnace was still as efficient as a 1950s furnace could be.
After grabbing her phone and tugging on slippers, she padded downstairs to make coffee. The moment she stepped into the entrance hall, she could smell the scent of Christmas tree wafting all the way from the parlor. She made a mental note that if she was still stranded in Keystone this time next year, she’d beg Rose to put a tree up sooner.
From the view through the windows she passed, only a couple inches of snow at most had accumulated during the night.
Yawning, she pushed in the kitchen door and froze. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she blinked, hoping she was still asleep.
“No,” she whispered. Just like a cartoon, she rubbed her eyes and opened them again. “You have got to be kidding me.”
The vandal had struck again, only this time, in the inn’s kitchen. The room was in disarray. Every cupboard door lay open, the contents of most spilling out onto the counters and floor. Sugar-dusted the linoleum, and an egg carton had been left out.
Why? Why would someone do this? Did they have something against clean kitchens?
Ella closed her eyes and ground her teeth, fighting the urge to yell a string of profanities. If it weren’t for the fact that Rose would be in any minute, she seriously considered leaving the mess until after she’d had some coffee and breakfast.
But with the innkeeper bound to awaken any moment, Ella scurried to gather a broom and dustpan from the hall closet. The last thing they needed was Rose in the infirmary with a coronary. She knew she needed to tell Jimmy and Rose immediately that someone had broken in, but she wanted to clean up the worst of the mess.
Before touching anything, she inspected the floor. The dusting of sugar was the only area that had captured any footprints. At least she’d loaned out the flour the day before. She couldn’t imagine how much of a mess that would’ve made—actually, she could. Because she’d cleaned up the flour and pie explosion at the diner.
Pulling out her phone, she compared the print to the one she’d taken at Grandma’s Kitchen. They matched.
Running to the back door, she checked the frame, surprised to find it perfectly preserved. In the deep blue morning light, she squinted but failed to spot any bootprints in the snow. When the door clicked shut, her hand turned the knob, and she discovered that it was unlocked.
Shaking her head, she documented the scene with photos, using her own foot for scale, then recorded a quick video. After that, she set about shoveling the worst of the mess into the trashcan and returning measuring spoons and canisters back into their proper places in the cupboards before closing the doors.
The kitchen door swung in. Ella spun and held her breath.
Tugging at the edges of her robe, Rose’s eyes slowly traveled up. Her jaw dropped.
“Wh-who-how?” she stammered. Her hand hovered near her mouth in frozen horror, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Abandoning the broom and dustpan, Ella led the innkeeper to a chair. A second later, a sleepy-eyed Jimmy strolled in, scratching his stomach and other parts.
“I think someone broke in,” Ella told him.
He squinted at her then took a gander at the room. Like her, he rubbed his eyes and blinked profusely, then he swore under his breath.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Ella patted Rose on the shoulder. “Honestly, it’s just a few misplaced dishes and some loose sugar. Nothing a good dishrag can’t fix.”
The innkeeper’s uncharacteristically bare lips trembled, and she fanned herself.
Now wide awake, Jimmy grabbed the nearest weapon—a knife—and hollered that he was checking the premises as he dashed into the hall.
“I hope he doesn’t check Flo’s room in that state, or he’s going to get a nasty surprise.” Ella frowned and considered chasing after him.
Rose stood and wavered over a lone remnant of clean linoleum. “Why would someone do this?”
Ella shrugged, searching for answers. “Because, sometimes, people suck. Does it look like anything was taken?”
Rose’s head swiveled. “I don’t think so.” She reminded Ella of a lost little girl.
After assuring the innkeeper she’d be right back, Ella ran to the check-in desk in the entrance hall to see if the phone lines were back up. They weren’t.
She quickly returned to the kitchen, nursing a building tension headache and wondering how they were going to get ahold of the sheriff. She’d have to make a trip to his office.
Jimmy burst back in through the door, breathing heavily, still wielding the knife aloft. “Just finished checking the rest of the house. Whoever it was, is long gone.”
Some of the fire returned to Rose’s eyes. “Jimmy Murray, put that thing away. That’s my best carving knife.”
As the couple argued about the knife, Ella squinted through the picture window in the wan light at the pristine snow, again searching for footprints, but seeing none. Not even slight impressions or dips that would’ve been covered by the two inches that had fallen during the night.
She left the bickering innkeepers to quickly check the front stoop, finding only vague outlines from Evelyn’s boots but nothing more.
Ella frowned and clicked the door closed, shivering against the cold penetrating her pajamas. Maybe the vandal had used the mother’s footprints to mask their own tracks. Otherwise, how else could they have gotten into the house? Unless…
Her lips turned down as she realized she’d forgotten about a third means of entering the inn via the conservatory. But Jimmy kept that door locked.
She decided after she had a couple cups of coffee and helped clean the kitchen, she’d check the other entrance, wander the grounds if she had to, and see if she couldn’t figure out how the intruder had entered.
Yawning, she sauntered back into the kitchen just as Rose was putting the coffee on the stove. Still in her robe, she pulled her rubber gloves on and attacked the counter with a sponge. Ella followed suit, rolling up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, wishing she’d at least changed out of her Star Wars pajama bottoms before coming downstairs.
They had just finished cleaning the counters and were about to sweep the floor when Flo strolled in, followed by Edwin.
Flo stood in the center of the room, blinked at the mess, and turned back around.
“Thanks for the help,” Ella called at the swinging door.
“Anytime,” Flo hollered back from deep inside the hallway.
Edwin shuffled forward, giving a wide berth of a mound of sugar. “I thought you weren’t supposed to bake unsupervised?” he said to her, his eyes twinkling.
“Hey, now. Even I haven’t demolished a whole kitchen.”
He chuckled, poured a cup of coffee, and left.
As Ella swiped aside a curl that had fallen in front of her face, it struck her that he hadn’t even bothered to ask what had happened—neither boarder had.
Sighing, Rose rested with her hands on her hips. “I had planned on making eggs and bacon for breakfast, but honestly, I don’t feel like cooking after this.”
“Me neither. Not that I would’ve if this hadn’t happened, mind you. Let’s just eat some of the pastries in the diner. I’ll pop over and grab some. They’ll spoil here in a day or so, anyhow.”
“Sounds good.”
Jimmy swept back in, poured coffee, and finished with the mopping. Between the three of them, they had the linoleum and Formica sparkling, all of the ut
ensils and containers back in their proper cupboards, and the dishes soaking in the sink.
Exhausted, they gathered around the table with the loaf of banana bread and homemade scones Ella had pilfered from Grandma’s Kitchen. She was just slathering a swathe of butter onto her slice when Flo shuffled back into the room. Walking straight to the coffee pot, she told Ella to be ready soon. She poured a cup and left again.
“Ready for what?” Rose asked.
“You don’t want to know. Trust me. I wish I didn’t know.”
“She seem nuttier than usual?” Jimmy asked.
Ella spoke around a bite of scone. “How can you tell?”
“Fair point.”
Rose admonished her husband for speaking with his mouth full. Ella exchanged a glance with him and swallowed.
After making another pot of coffee, the innkeeper’s hand fished around in her apron. A moment later, it came back out with a silver charm bracelet, and she clasped it on. Ella had seen the jewelry a few times but had never asked about it. Her brain whirred with ideas.
“That’s pretty.”
“Thank you. It was my mother’s.” Rose’s fingers traced over the charms. “Each one is a memory. Half are hers, some I gave her as presents when I was a girl. The others have been presents from Jimmy or Wink.”
Ella bit back a grin, finally finding the perfect present for the Secret Santa swap.
“I didn’t know you could buy jewelry in Keystone. Where would one go to get, say, a necklace?”
“General Store.” Jimmy eyed her over his cup, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He had to know what she was thinking.
“I know the place. Passed it several times, but I’ve never gone inside. Looks like it used to be a saloon, right?”
“Cause it was,” Jimmy said. “You can still smell the gin.”
As Rose whisked from the stove back to the table, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, she said, “Wish they’d put up a new sign. The last one blew off in a windstorm when the town flashed to Oklahoma in the 1800s.”
While they finished their breakfast, Ella’s thoughts flitted from Rose’s present to Flo preparations for the gun range to this latest break-in. She knew she should feel in danger; the vandal had proved they weren’t afraid to cause another harm.