The Hound of Bar Harborville (A Jane True Short Story) (Trueniverse Book 1)

by Nicole Peeler

  I considered texting her, till I saw her phone lying on the bedside table. Which meant she was probably still in the hotel, as she wouldn’t go too far without it.

  A quick shower and change of clothes later, I found her already in the dining room we’d seen the previous day. Edeet! sat at the end of the table, only her red-rimmed eyes displaying her grief. Jane sat across from Kitsy.

  An empty chair sat opposite Edeet!, conspicuous with its lack of a place setting. Jacques wouldn’t be taking his spot this morning, and his wife’s gaze kept flickering across the table like she was touching a wound.

  “Good morning,” I said to the room, taking my place next to Jane. Edeet! gave me a small smile, and Kitsy a sober nod.

  “You’re up early,” I said to my ladylove, my tone suggesting I wanted to know why she’d thought that was a good idea.

  “I was hungry,” she said, which was certainly partly true, since Jane was always hungry. But it wasn’t the full truth.

  “And?” I whispered, sotto voce, under the cover of Aisha carrying a tray with a rattling coffee service spread across it.

  “And I saw a police car roll in this morning at eight. I wanted to find out what he wanted, for our…”

  Her voice trailed off as Aisha poured Jane a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Thank you,” Jane said, smiling at the girl. I did the same when mine was poured before turning back to the mother of my children and the current bane of my existence.

  “Our what?” I asked, knowing I didn’t want to hear the rest.

  “Our investigation,” she muttered, not wanting anyone to hear.

  “Investigation,” I said with a heartfelt sigh. “Jane, there is no investi…”

  “Shh,” she hissed to me. “Delicious coffee,” she said, to the table at large.

  Edeet! gave a small nod of thanks but was otherwise silent. My heart went out to her, even with the strangeness of the situation. Or especially because of the strangeness of the situation.

  Breakfast was short and unbearably awkward. We ate delicious eggs benedict and barely spoke to each other except about the food. Aisha served the meal, although she looked the worst of any of us, her expression haggard.

  It was a relief to escape back to our room, where I immediately took Jane in my arms.

  “Don’t you want to hear what I learned from glamouring the detective?” she said, as soon as I stopped kissing her.

  “Not really,” I said, trying to kiss her again. I figured that if she had my tongue in her mouth, she couldn’t keep talking.

  “Jacques did die of a heart attack,” she said, drawing back from me to dish. I sighed and sat down on the bed, flopping backward in defeat.

  “I told you. Nothing to do with us. Now, if you really want something to investigate…” I sat up, reaching for her, but she danced out of my way.

  “But he did not die in our bed,” she said. “At least, they don’t think he did. He probably died in the conservatory and was moved into our bed.”

  “And how do the police know that?”

  “Because that’s where they found his clothes. They were stashed behind the fountain, the one in the flowerbed.”

  “So how do they know he didn’t just take his clothes off in the conservatory and walk to our room and then die?”

  “Because who does that, first of all,” Jane said. “He’d have taken his clothes off in the room rather than walk naked through the whole hotel. And there was dirt on the back of his shirt, and they found a Jacques-shaped imprint in the soil of that flowerbed. He fell in the conservatory, probably dead, and someone undressed him and brought him up to our room.”

  “And why on earth would someone do that?”

  “Come on, Anyan,” she said, watching me with pitying eyes. “It’s obvious.”

  “Is it? You still think his natural heart attack was murder?”

  “Why does a heart attack have to be natural?” she countered. “Maybe someone who knew he had a heart problem scared him to death.”

  “And this is our problem because…?” I gave her a pointed look. “We’re on vacation.”

  “And someone may have murdered an innocent man, right under our noses,” Jane said with an expression I knew well. It was the look she had when she saved the world.

  “What do the police think?” I asked her, praying she’d see reason.

  She looked away from me. “They think it’s strange his clothes were in the conservatory but that he definitely died of natural causes.”

  “See? We are not getting involved with this, Jane. They’re humans. We’re on vacation. It doesn’t involve us.”

  Jane’s eyes narrowed at me and she tapped her finger against her cheek in thought. Then she got her “epiphany” face, which I feared almost as much as her “save the world” face, especially since the two were usually related.

  “What?” I asked suspiciously.

  “I have an idea,” she said, confirming my worst suspicions. “I propose a wager.”

  “A wager?”

  “Yes, a wager.” Jane took a step toward me, running her pointer finger down my chest. “You know that thing you’ve been wanting to do?”

  “The one you said was too filthy for a nice girl like you?”

  “Yes, that one. The absolutely filthy thing…” Her finger trailed lower, over the zipper of my jeans.

  “Yes, I remember that thing,” I said, only barely managing actual speech and not an inarticulate growl.

  “And remember the thing I want to do, that you think may throw out your hip?”

  “That one’s just dangerous,” I replied. “Tempting, but ultimately dangerous.”

  “Well, how about we wager your thing against my thing?”

  “I like when our things rub up against each other, but I don’t understand. What are we wagering over?”

  “That I can get to the bottom of what really happened to Jacques. And if I do, you have to do my thing. If I fail, I’ll do your thing.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t born yesterday, missy. Unlike you. All a powerful halfling like you has to do is glamour a few people and they’ll tell you the truth.”

  She pouted, and I wanted to suck her adorable bottom lip between mine and nibble. But I resisted, instead upping the ante.

  “I’ll wager with you, but there has to be no glamouring allowed,” I said. “If you can uncover what happened, without using glamour, we can do your thing. I’ll even help you investigate. But if you can’t come up with anything by the end of this weekend, I get to do my thing, and before we leave.”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded, sticking out her hand for me to shake. “You have a deal. I can’t wait for you to do my thing. I’ll have the paramedics on call just in case you do throw your poor old hip out.”

  “And I can’t wait to do my thing to you, my filthy little darling. Speaking of which, we’ll need butter. And a tarp.”

  We grinned at each other, pleased with our deal. But I wanted to get to work, so I could get Jane naked all that much faster. “Okay,” I said. “We’re investigating. Where do we start?”

  She gave me a swift, hard kiss. “We talk with the suspects, first.”

  “And who are the suspects?”

  “Everyone who was in the hotel last night. Luckily, that’s not many people. You, me, Timmy, Edith, and Aisha.”

  “And Kitsy,” I said.

  “Of course. And Kitsy.”

  “Are we really suspects?” I asked her.

  “I think we can count ourselves out. Unless you did kill Jacques?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Did you?”

  “No. So, our suspects are Edith, Kitsy, Aisha, and Timmy.”

  “That’s not a lot of suspects,” I said approvingly. Then I decided a warning was in order. “Although you can’t rule out the theory that Jacques really did die of natural causes and someone moved him for reasons we can’t understand but that were perfectly innocent.”

  “Maybe,” said Jane. “But
do you really believe that?”

  Now that I’d thrown in the towel, I shook my head. “No. So let’s do this. Where do we start?”

  “Well, first we should check in with my dad and see how the twins are doing.” I nodded at Jane, having brought down her phone for just that purpose. “Then we should start the investigation with the most obvious suspect.

  “The loving wife.”

  We found Edeet! in the kitchen, sitting at a small table tucked under a large window. She was staring out into the grounds, her eyes shadowed.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Jane said. “But we wanted to offer our condolences.”

  Edeet! gave a smile balanced perfectly between sad and gracious. “Thank you. That is very kind.”

  “I’m also sorry that he was found the way he was. I hope you know…”

  “Do not worry,” Edeet! said, waving a long-fingered, delicate hand at Jane. “I know you had nothing to do with my husband’s death.”

  Jane sat down at the table and I followed suit, feeling like a heel for questioning a newly widowed woman. But Edeet! didn’t seem angry or alarmed at our company.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” said Jane, making her black eyes as huge and innocent as they could get. “How ever do you think he came to be in our bed?”

  Edeet! closed her eyes and took a long breath. “With Jack? Who knows. When we married we were everything to each other, but over the years…we’d become strangers.”

  Those words were spoken with straightforward clarity, and yet I could tell they cost her. She seemed relieved after she’d said them, however, as if she were testing out such honesty and finding it less frightening than she’d expected.

  “I wondered whether he was a real Jacques,” Jane said, touching the woman’s hand gently in commiseration.

  The French woman gave a very Gallic snort. “I was born in a suburb of Paris, but Jack is from Trenton. We met when I was an exchange student. He’s only ever been to France twice, but he thought we both should be French for the Chateau.”

  “I’m sorry you had troubles,” Jane said. There was something about my girl that made people spill their guts to her, without any coercion, magical or otherwise. And Edeet! was no exception.

  She shrugged, an elegant gesture that spoke of her sadness, her regret, her acceptance. “It’s what happens in relationships, no? After a time, you become other people. And then what do you have?”

  Jane’s eyes found mine, looking troubled. When she’d believed she was mortal she knew relationships took a lot to maintain. Now that she knew her half-selkie heritage would give her a much longer life, she worried about our ability to stay the distance.

  “Were you separated officially or anything?” I asked Edeet!, wanting to get this over with so I could take Jane back to our room and show why, exactly, we had everything we needed for this life and a few others.

  “Oh, no. We never talked that way. We were good business partners, and the business was everything to Jack. For myself…I wanted to stay married. The thought of losing my marriage terrified me, although I am ashamed to admit that.”

  Jane reached out a hand to pat Edeet!’s. “You shouldn’t be ashamed,” said Jane. “You had built so much together, and he was your husband.”

  Edeet! nodded, blinking back tears. “Yes. And once we were magnificent together…I knew we could be that way again. I just knew it.”

  “Did you have any children?” I asked, and Jane shot me a look. I shrugged at her. This wasn’t a therapy session—this was trying to figure out if Edeet! had offed her husband or knew who had.

  “Unfortunately, no. We’d wanted them, of course, but we were not blessed with our own babies.”

  “Were there…other babies?” I asked, trying to interpret that last bit of her statement.

  “No. Jack was married once before, but very briefly, and they did not have children.”

  “Well, you definitely built a beautiful home together,” Jane said. “How long have you owned the Chateau?”

  “We bought it soon after we married, actually. I studied hotel management and was doing my final internship and last few courses here in the States. I had the knowledge and Jack had the capital.”

  “So he bought the place? That must have been quite expensive,” said Jane.

  “Oh, yes. And it was in terrible disrepair. We had to put a lot of money into it. But it was worth it, non?”

  “Absolutely. It’s gorgeous. And wonderful that you were able to bring it back to life. A very worthy way to spend…Jack’s inheritance? Or did you guys have another career before owning the hotel?”

  That question closed Edeet! right down.

  “We did much of the work ourselves,” she said, clearly lying. Edeet! hadn’t picked a hammer up in her elegant life, I would swear to that. And Jack(ques) hadn’t seemed any more of a general contractor than he had a Frenchman. “I am afraid that I have to see about lunch. Will you be dining here or out?”

  “Out,” I said immediately, before Jane could imprison us in the Chateau for the entire day.

  Edeet! stood, extending a hand first to Jane and then to me. “Thank you for your condolences. It is very nice to have such guests at a time like this. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

  Clearly dismissed, we took our leave through the main kitchen door we’d used to enter, a door that led off a long hallway extending from the conservatory rather than the “secret” door behind the main desk.

  When we got to the conservatory, she stopped, pulling me toward the fountain.

  “That’s where he fell,” she said, pointing at the flowerbed surrounding the tinkling little fountain.

  “Macabre,” was my only response. “But interesting. Anyway, that was depressing. That poor woman.”

  “Poor woman?” Jane said, arching her eyebrows at me.

  “Yes. She’s clearly devastated.”

  Jane shook her head, eying me like I’d just declared the sky was somewhere near our feet. “Oh, puppy,” she said sadly.

  “What?”

  “That woman hated her husband. It was obvious.”

  “What? No way! She was broken up about his death.”

  “No, she wasn’t. Broken up isn’t sitting at a kitchen table talking with strangers and planning lunch. It’s catatonic in bed. Believe me, I know.”

  I felt a twinge of guilt, which was silly as I’d had no say in being changed into a dragon and leaving her. “Come here,” I said, drawing her into my arms. She rested her head on my chest, accepting the gesture but still thinking.

  “No, she wasn’t broken up. But she was careful to exhibit her grief while also making it clear that their marriage wasn’t perfect. She made sure we knew she was the victim in all of that and she wanted the marriage to work. It was artfully done.”

  I peered down at Jane’s scalp, wondering at what went on in her little head. “That’s very cynical,” I said.

  She shrugged in my arms, then took a step back.

  “Now it’s time to talk to Aisha,” she said.

  I trailed behind her as she left the conservatory, my own thoughts suddenly clouded with a thousand doubts.

  “Aisha, are you okay?” Jane immediately went to the girl sitting in the dark kitchen.

  The girl dashed away her tears with a trembling hand, but it was too late. She knew she couldn’t pretend we hadn’t caught her crying.

  “It’s just so crazy,” said the young woman. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  I hung back, trying to stay out of Aisha’s direct line of sight. I knew she’d talk to Jane. Everyone talked to Jane.

  “I know. But he did have a heart condition…”

  She shook her head. “He was too young. It’s so messed up.” And with that, the girl put her head in her hands and wailed.

  Jane patted her back, making soothing noises, but the wide-eyed look she gave me was more shocked than commiserating.

  And I could see understand why. We’d only caught glimpses
of the girl, but now that we saw her close up, she was a lot younger than either of us had assumed. She must have been in high school, at the most.

  “Were you and Jack close?”

  Aisha looked up at Jane through tear-sticky lashes. “Why do you want to talk about him? You didn’t even know him.”

  “No,” Jane said, “We didn’t know him. But we found him, you know. We’re upset too.”

  At the mention of “we,” Aisha looked around for me, her eyes narrowing when she saw me looming in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry you had your sleep disturbed,” she said, “That must have sucked. Now if you’ll excuse me…” And with that, the girl stalked away from me and headed to an empty wall on the far side of the kitchen. She pushed it and another hidden door opened, allowing the girl to disappear as Jane and I watched, wide-eyed.

  “This place is a rabbit warren,” I said as both Jane and I moved to stare at the blank wall. I reached forward and pushed it gently, feeling it move until it revealed the cracks of the lintel, pushing it open far enough to stick my head through.

  “There are stairs,” I said, looking back for Jane but not seeing her. Then I looked down.

  She was squatting, but she rose smoothly to her feet before I could ask her what she was doing. When she opened her palm to show me her find, I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

  A crushed rose petal, just like the ones I’d strewn on our bed the night before. And it hadn’t been lying on that floor when we’d entered.

  It must have come from one of Aisha’s shoes.

  “Could he have seduced her?” I asked Jane, clearly meaning Aisha.

  “Gods, I hope not,” Jane said, her lips drawing back in distaste. “He’s old enough to be her father.”

  That perked me up. “Could he be her father?”

  Jane paused, chewing her lip. “Maybe. Aisha could definitely be mixed race.”

  “But why wouldn’t he have introduced her as such? Could she be a secret baby?”

  “You’ve been reading Harlequin romances again, haven’t you?”

  “I’m not going to apologize. It’s where I learn all my skills.”