Inn the Doghouse

by Heather Horrocks

  Grandma Ross, sitting beside Liz, glanced over her shoulder at Zach—who was studiously doing his homework at the kitchen table behind us—and said in a lowered voice, “I think you ought to go see a doctor, Elizabeth.”

  “I’m fine.” Liz waved her off.

  “You’re always tired lately,” I said, worried about her. “Which means, with our weird twin senses, that I’m tired a lot, too.”

  She smiled. “You mean just like I was tired after Robert died because you couldn’t sleep?”

  “Touché,” I said, remembering. “I was a wreck for a long time.”

  “So am I. A total train wreck. Head-on, two-train collision.”

  “Maybe you’re getting depressed.”

  She stared at me, daring me to go on.

  “Okay,” I said, backing off. After a pause, I added, “It does get better. After a long time.”

  Grandma nodded and shifted her weight on the stool to get comfortable. “A really long time.”

  Liz climbed down and opened the fridge. “Would you ladies like anything to drink?”

  I shook my head. Grandma said, “Only if it’s hot chocolate. The cold has crept into my bones today.”

  Zach looked up. “I’d like a Gatorade.”

  “One G2, coming up,” Liz said, handing it to him and tousling his hair.

  Liz climbed back onto her stool, putting a cup with hot chocolate mix in front of Grandma, and popping the lid on a Sprite.

  After filling the teapot, and heating some water, she stirred the water into the hot chocolate mix.

  She replaced the mug in front of Grandma, who smiled gently. “You were trying to change the subject, Elizabeth.”

  Liz nodded. “You’re right. Okay, okay, I’ll confess. If only I could sleep all night, I’d feel better.”

  “Hey, I know,” I said. “Let Grandma fix you one of her toddies tonight. You’ll sleep like a baby.”

  “I’ll bring one up later,” promised Grandma, ever helpful.

  Liz stared at me. “Thanks, Vicki. A lot.”

  None of us ever wanted to actually take any of Grandma’s eighty-proof toddies. I smiled at them both and pulled out four plates.

  Grandma took another sip. “Be sure to take care of yourself.”

  I dished out the salad onto the plates and set them along the counter. I intended to bring Zach over to join us after we finished talking.

  “Thanks,” Liz conceded. “I’ll try to do better.”

  “Especially if you want to kick butt tomorrow night at our karate class.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up to it.” Liz laughed. “But I would very much like to be a kick-butt heroine in my own life story.”

  “Me, too.” I reached for bowls.

  Zach said, “That’s a naughty word.”

  I nodded, having become painfully aware that Zach heard a lot more than I ever wanted him to. “You’re right, baby. You ladies stop using naughty words with my impressionable, young son around.”

  Grandma said, “Did you girls remember my dinner party Thursday night?”

  Liz and I exchanged blank looks. If Grandma had told us, we both forgot in the chaos of the murder and DeWayne.

  Grandma nodded. “That’s okay. You’ve had a lot going on. But you’ll want to be there because it will be delicious. I have the most exclusive chef in town catering it for me.”

  The phone rang. I answered with, “Hi, Paul. Any news from DeWayne?”

  Without answering my question, he asked, “Is Liz there with you?”

  His tone was serious enough that my chest tightened. I glanced at her. “Yes.”

  “Put me on speaker phone. I have good news and not-so-good news.”

  So I did, telling Liz, “Paul has news for us.”

  Liz said, “Hi, Paul.”

  “The good news is that you are no longer a suspect in Gene’s murder.”

  Liz sucked in a quick breath and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Why not?” I asked Paul, my mouth dry. “What happened?”

  “The killer confessed.”

  “Who? Do we know him?” I asked, wondering if it was a wise guy or a local guy.

  “Herbert Norris.”

  Grandma gasped. “Herbert? My Herbert? There’s no way he’s guilty.”

  “Is that Grandma? Hi, Grandma,” Paul said. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I suggest you find someone new to date.”

  I leaned against the counter, my legs weak in my relief. “So Liz isn’t going to jail!”

  “Nope. You’re off the hook, little sister. And your husband’s murderer is behind bars.”

  Liz looked stunned. “But why did he do it?”

  “Because…” Paul paused before the words rushed out of him. “He did it because it was his granddaughter, Misty, who was pregnant.”

  “Oh.” Liz slumped over the counter at the mention of Gene’s mistress. “Thank you for calling, Paul.”

  “And the not-so-good news?” I asked, dreading what was coming.

  Paul hesitated, so it was bad news.

  Liz said, “Just say it.”

  “You wanted me to tell you when I heard from DeWayne.”

  This was like the proverbial pulling of teeth. “And….?” I prompted.

  “I shouldn’t tell you this over the phone. I’ll come over and tell you face to face.”

  “Has he been in an accident?” Liz asked, her voice small.

  “Tell us now,” I said.

  “No, no. He’s fine. It’s just that…” Again, he stopped. Then a sigh. “He got married last night.”

  “What?” All three of us gasped out the word, astonished.

  “He and Crystal eloped last night. They got married in one of the fancy wedding chapels in one of the fancier hotels in Las Vegas.”

  “He married Crystal?” I asked dumbly. “In Vegas?”

  “At least, he didn’t go to the Elvis Chapel of Love,” Grandma said.

  Liz sucked in noisy, shuddering breaths, trying to control her emotions. “He thought I didn’t care. Because of how stupid I was in jail that day. You saw his face. I knew I needed to talk to him. And now he’s gone and done something stupid, too.”

  “I’m so sorry, Liz,” I said. And I really, really was.

  “Me, too.” Then she leaned into my hug and cried.

  ~ ~ ~

  Thursday, November 17

  Grandma wasn’t joking about hiring a fantastic chef for her Thursday night dinner party, but she did omit an important detail. Like, for instance, the fact that the “most exclusive chef in town” she hired was David Weston.

  Which, of course, made me acutely aware of him coming and going, bringing in food with the other servers. When he did, he seemed always to be watching me.

  I just had to get through the dinner without embarrassing myself by acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, which is how I began to feel around him. No making a spectacle of myself tonight. I would be cool and sophisticated.

  Grandma invited my parents, Liz, Zach and me, and Paul and his wife, Jennifer, and their three children. My sister, Georgia, couldn’t come because she was working at the hospital tonight. A few of Grandma’s friends also came, and, not surprising to me anymore, an older male friend of Grandpa George’s. Did Grandma follow Paul’s advice to find someone new to date so quickly? Already?

  Grandma’s home was one of the largest in Silver City. Grandpa George had owned several businesses in town and seemed to have the Midas touch. He took good care of Grandma while he was alive and left her well off after he died. She had a great view of the town from her place. Her home was about five-thousand square feet, with a huge dining room and kitchen and family room area where she’d happily entertained family and friends as well as her husband’s business associates for years.

  The cherrywood table could hold nearly as many people as my large one at the Inn. Only half the leaves were in it now for this more modest gathering.

  Mom’s cruise-acquired tan hadn’t totally f
aded, and she regaled us with the stories of their adventure that she couldn’t tell when they returned for the funeral—the midnight chocolate buffet, snorkeling along a beautiful Hawaiian shore, getting sunburned and staying out of the sun for a couple of days, and hiking up to one of the volcanoes. She became very excited relating her anecdotes and it was fun to watch Dad enjoying her version of the stories.

  When the servers brought in David’s dessert, Mom settled in to enjoy the decadent ice cream pie.

  Sitting next to me, Dad asked, “How are things at the Inn, Vicki?”

  “Two couples from Germany traveling together on a ski vacation just checked out this morning and I was sorry to see them go. They were a lot of fun. I have a full weekend though. Several more guests, eight I think, are scheduled to arrive tomorrow.”

  Dad nodded approvingly. “That’s great, honey. I’m glad you’re doing so well.”

  My phone started singing “I Wanna Talk about Me” by Toby Keith. The others looked at me as I fumbled for it, trying to remember to whom I assigned that song. With a grimace, I said, “Manny Much.”

  Paul laughed. “As in our cousin, the serial polygamist?”

  “Answer it and see what he wants,” Grandma said. “It can’t be that bad.”

  It could be that bad—and worse. I already knew what he wanted: to be lined up with a woman; and/or sign me up as a distributor for his “latest and greatest” multilevel marketing plan. With my family looking at me expectantly, I sighed and pushed the button. “Hi, Manny.”

  “Vicki, babe, it’s good to hear your voice. What are you doing?”

  “I’m having dinner at Grandma’s house.”

  “Hey, sorry to have missed that. Any interesting women there?”

  “Lots of them. Grandma, Mom, Liz, and me.”

  “You’re funny.” He laughed. “Really. I mean it. How about any babes I could date?”

  “No. Not tonight.” And I meant that in the strongest terms ever. As in, I’d never set him up with someone I knew. Not ever. Not on your life. No way. No one I knew. “Not tonight.”

  “Hey, that’s okay. I got a blind date on Saturday with a gorgeous gal. I got a good feeling about this one.”

  Would that be anything like the feelings he had toward the last six women he married? And numerous others who never got to the altar? I didn’t put too much stock in Manny’s feelings.

  He went on. “The reason I called was to set up a meeting. I have this fantastic opportunity for you. Seriously. It’s the best jewelry ever. Practically sells itself. And you can get in on the ground floor. So what about this Sunday around five o’clock?”

  “No, Manny, that won’t work. Not right now. Sorry. Got too much going on.”

  “Is Liz there? Maybe she’ll want to do it.”

  “Liz’s husband just died two weeks ago. I don’t think she wants to throw a party of any kind.”

  “Oh.” He sounded dejected. “Okay. I’ll call you next week. You’ll kick yourself if you miss this fantastic opportunity, I’m telling you.”

  “Thanks for calling, Manny. I’ve got to go now.”

  “That kid never gives up, does he?” Dad said. That kid was Dad’s nephew, Aunt Becca’s only son, and ten years older than me, making him not quite forty.

  “Only on marriages,” Paul added.

  Paul’s wife, Jennifer, laughed. “How many times has he been married now? I can’t keep track.”

  “Six. I think,” I said. That’s why we started calling him Manny Much, short for Manny Much Married, so many times you couldn’t count them on the fingers of one hand. He has a good heart, but he also has issues. After all, the common denominator with all these ex-wives and Manny was…Manny.

  “Speaking of marriages,” Mom said, “I was talking with DeWayne’s mother earlier. Can you believe that DeWayne just up and eloped like that?”

  Beside me, Liz snatched up her napkin and said, “Excuse me.” She was crying before she left the dining room.

  Paul said, “Mom, I think DeWayne is a sore subject right now.”

  “Oh.” Mom looked stricken. “I didn’t mean to upset her.” She looked at me. “Why is she so upset? I thought it was over between them a long time ago.”

  “I think she just started to realize how deep her feelings for DeWayne really were.” And I explained what happened, without mentioning when Paul put us in jail.

  Grandma frowned. “She’s not doing as well as I hoped.”

  David carried in more desserts. “I think she just needs more time to work through things.”

  I agreed with David, and also with Grandma. I was growing more worried about Liz by the day. She was not a crying person. Until now. Even I didn’t cry everywhere I went when Robert was killed. Well, not after the first few weeks, anyway. “It’s only been two weeks since Gene was killed.”

  “Go check on her, Vicki,” Grandma said, motioning for me to follow.

  So I did, like a dutiful granddaughter and loving sister. I found her lying on Grandma’s bed, tissues in hand and a few more crumpled on the floor. Without saying anything, I climbed up beside her and took her hand. She snuggled in closer.

  “Grandma’s worried about you.”

  “I know. I’m worried about myself. I never cry. And now I can’t seem to stop.” She sighed and hiccupped as she wiped her eyes again. “How could DeWayne do that? And with Crystal? The person I dislike most in all of Silver City snagged the man I like the most.”

  “She’s been after him pretty hard since she got back to town.”

  “But he wasn’t caught until after I told him I just needed him as a friend in the jail. I knew I needed to talk to him and clear things up. And now it’s too late. He’s married.”

  I nodded. “But he will always be your friend.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “I’m sure Crystal will be thrilled to have him spending time with me as his friend.”

  “Probably not going to happen, is it?”

  “Vicki, what’s wrong with me? I’ve always counted on DeWayne being there, waiting for me. And now, when I’m just starting to realize how much he means to me, he runs off and marries someone else.”

  “Life stinks.”

  She choked out a small laugh. “Yes, it does. What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Give yourself some time to get used to the new view in your life. Single. Without Gene or DeWayne.”

  “It’s all my fault. What do I do about that? It’s going to drive me crazy.”

  “Maybe work on forgiving yourself. It’s not all your fault. After all these years, the big doofus could have waited another three days. He overreacted.”

  “I guess.” She sighed. “At least, I still have you.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And you still have Grandma.”

  That made her chuckle and, soon, she started to laugh. I joined her. The others probably wondered what on earth we were doing in here. That thought made me laugh even harder.

  Sometimes it’s easier to laugh than cry.

  And then someone knocked on the door.

  I sat up. “Come in.”

  David opened the door, seeing us in all our semi-hysterical glory.

  So much for being cool and sophisticated in front of him.

  He held out a small tray. “Dessert anyone?”

  Liz and I laughed harder.

  To give David credit, he smiled at us and set the tray on the dresser. “It has chocolate in it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Friday, November 18

  BY THE NEXT MORNING, I already had seven guests checking in. A family of five—two sons and one daughter—took the Southern Sisters suite and the Hardy Boys room and a couple from New York chose the Magnum P.I. suite out in the carriage house. I still had reservations for three more couples, from Maine, California, and Mexico.

  Even with all the hustle and bustle of checking people in, the Inn didn’t seem too full. Not until David and Lonny both arrived to help Zach pack for the overnig
ht father-son winter campout. The testosterone was flying like paintballs from paint guns. They planned to leave at one o’clock—if they didn’t kill each other first.

  Stephanie, Xavier, and Lonny had arrived earlier to begin rehearsing the Inn’s next featured murder mystery. Although we normally hosted two mysteries a month, because of all the family and holiday festivities, as well as preparing for the Christmas play, we would host only one in November this year. The plan was to perform a different mystery for each season, four plays a year. They were nearly finished with rehearsing since Lonny had to leave for the campout shortly.

  Zach welcomed Lonny warmly. Then, upon seeing David pulling up in his cool, black sports car, he snatched David’s hand and pulled him inside the Inn. “Come look at my sleeping bag, David. I rolled it myself.”

  David waved to me with a, “Hi, Vicki,” as he followed Zach into the kitchen, where all the camping paraphernalia was laid out. Zach showed him the sleeping bag, and David expressed his approval.

  A few minutes later, they came into the lobby just as Lonny strolled out from the exercise room, where the rehearsal was being held.

  The moment the two men saw each other, tension and testosterone filled the air.

  Zach seemed oblivious. “Hey, Lonny, come see my backpack.”

  Lonny smiled at my son. “Sure thing, short stuff.”

  As the two of them disappeared into the kitchen, David joined me at the check-in counter. “Ought to be an interesting evening.”

  I pulled a serious face. “Try not to kill him.”

  He laughed. “Spoilsport.”

  The air sizzled between us.

  Zach called out to him and he told me, “Got to go.”

  I shook my head at the thought of the competition that would no doubt occur between the two men as they contended to help my son. Here, in my presence was one thing, but I wasn’t sure if their contest would grow more or less intense when I wasn’t around. “You two will behave yourselves around my son, right? No punching each other or any of those other stupid things guys do to each other?”

  He saluted. “No stupid things, ma’am.”

  “Don’t ever ma’am me. Not if you want to retain all your limbs intact.”

  He chuckled.