“Thank you, Billy,” Gertie said to Deputy Sheriff Bill Stanton.
Rodriguez and Nelson raised their eyebrows.
Gertie replied to their unspoken question. “Billy was in my fifth grade class.”
The men chuckled.
Corrigan slid a glass back and forth in front of himself. “About the decision I’ve made.” He looked at Robert Johnson. “Robert, our feud played a role in Sylvia Madison’s death. If I hadn’t made the pledge to never sell you a piece of property, you wouldn’t have had to use deceit to try to buy this place.”
Johnson nodded. “What took place has been on my mind as well. If I hadn’t tried to trick you, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You won’t have reason to be tempted again,” Corrigan said. “We can deal at the table like two businessmen. If we can come to an agreement about a piece of property, you can buy it. It was silly of me anyway. As soon as I sell a place, someone can turn around and sell it to whomever they want.”
“Does that mean you’re willing to reconsider about selling this place to me?”
“Perhaps. Let’s let a little time pass before we go down that path.”
“How is Margaret Hensley?” asked Mary.
“She’ll make a full recovery. As soon as she’s well, she’s returning to New York.” Corrigan smiled. “Sylvia Madison’s report said Hensley was doing an outstanding job and recommended pictures be taken to use as examples for our staff website.”
“Who’s going to manage Redwood Heights?” Daniel asked.
“Scott’s going to stay until the regular manager returns, which will be in about three weeks.” Corrigan glanced around the room. “Anyone have any further questions?”
All heads shook in a negative response.
“I don’t have a question, but I do have something to share,” I said. “The best way to do that is with a demonstration.” I spoke to Mary. “I’d like you to help me.”
“Of course, honey, just tell me what you want me to do.”
“We’re going to take a walk to the far end of the room,” I replied.
As we made our way, I asked her to tell me in a quiet voice the ingredients of her brownies when we got to a certain spot. I’d let her know when. She looked puzzled but nodded in agreement.
When we got to the corner of the room, I stopped, looked back, and then shifted where we were standing about a foot so we were in line with the detectives on the other side of the room.
“Now,” I said.
She tilted her head to the side. “The recipe calls for chopped pecans, semi-sweet chocolate—”
“What the . . .” Detective Nelson’s voice said in my ear.
Mary’s head jerked up, and she looked around for the person who had spoken.
We walked back, and I asked Detective Nelson what he’d heard.
“Something about pecans and chocolate. What just happened?”
“Clever, Kelly,” the Professor said. “Scientific eavesdropping!”
“Oh, what fun!” Mary said. “Can you tell us about it, Professor?”
“It has to do with the elliptical ceiling and concave shape.”
We all stared at the ceiling—the revealer of secrets.
“Sound travels across it. The phenomenon has been known for centuries. It’s sometimes referred to as a whispering gallery. A famous, or infamous one, as the case may be, was in the Cathedral of Girgenti in Sicily. The secrets of the confessional traveled approximately two hundred and fifty feet to a spot where even whispers were easily heard. As you can imagine, this caused great dismay on the part of those supposedly speaking in private and sharing their sins.”
I spoke to the detectives. “When I was waiting for you to interview me, I sat where you are now. I was surprised when your voices sounded like you were standing right next to me.”
“So you heard everything we said?” Rodriguez asked.
“Yes, until you started walking toward me.” I smiled at them. “I wanted you to know in case you ever had a ceiling like this above you again.”
“We appreciate it,” Nelson said ruefully. “Life’s full of surprises.”
Mary’s eyes sparkled. “This could be useful in our investigations. We’ll have to see what other places have a ceiling like this.”
Corrigan addressed the group. “Anything else?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Thanks for coming.” He stood, then said, “Oh, Kelly, good news. I received word the renovation’s complete at Redwood Cove B and B. You’re in business.”
The Silver Sentinels clapped.
Ivan boomed, “Welcome, new manager!”
We said our good-byes and went our separate ways. Scott was staying for a while. It would be nice to get to know him better, without the tension of a murder case surrounding us.
I drove to Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast, parked, turned off the engine, and sat in the truck for a few minutes thinking about how I’d driven here listening to the song “Walking on Sunshine.” The gray clouds that had covered the happy return had now dissipated.
What I found when I entered the multipurpose room made me smile. Allie and Tommy were taking turns tossing pieces of popcorn to Fred, Jack, and Jill.
Tommy shouted, “Fred won. Five for five.”
Fred did a basset hound dance.
“What does he get for winning?” I asked.
Tommy looked puzzled for a few minutes, then grinned. “More popcorn!”
Helen was folding napkins and stacking them on the counter.
“Good news, Helen. I just found out we’re officially open for business.”
“Great! I’ll start stocking up on supplies.”
I went to my room, put my purse away, and then went to the conference room. It was back to being a meeting room for ordinary tasks—no longer a place to strategize about finding a murderer.
Rejoining the group in the work area, I found Daniel and Tommy wrestling on the floor, with the dogs jumping into the fray at every available opportunity. Stevie and Allie had pulled out the beanbag chairs and were watching television. I heard a voice from the television call out, “Lassie,” and a dog bark.
This was the life I’d wanted to see and be a part of. The phone rang.
I answered it. “Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast. How may I help you?”
“We’ve been admiring the rooms on your website. Is the one named The Study available tomorrow and the day after?”
“Let me check.” I opened the registration book. “Yes, it is.” I prepared to write their information in it. My first registration as official manager of Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast.
My new beginning.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Janet Finsilver and her husband live in the San Francisco Bay Area. She loves animals and has two dogs—Kylie and Ellie. Janet enjoys horseback riding, snow skiing, and cooking. She is currently working on her next Redwood Cove mystery. Readers can visit her website at: www.janetfinsilver.com
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2016 by Janet Finsilver
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: June 2016
ISBN: 978-1-6165-0931-6
eISBN-10: 1-61650-931-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-932-3
ISBN-10: 1-61650-932-5
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