He shrugged. “Yes. She would love that. Actually, she gave me an ultimatum—her or you.”
“I see. Well, I guess this is goodbye then.” Juniper held out her hand. Jack took it and pulled her in close for another electrical, toe-sizzling kiss. When he broke away, Juniper’s heart was pounding.
“Why must you keep torturing me like this?”
Jack pushed her back but hung onto her arms. His face was deadly serious. “You know, Junie, when I found you in the attic. All I could think about was how empty my life would be if I lost you...you’re the best part of my day...” he swallowed.
“You’re just figuring this out now,” she said lightly. “What about big boobs? Does she know any of this?”
“I broke up with her last month.” He pushed a strand of hair away from the corner of her eye. “I’ve been trying to find a way to ask you out,” Jack said.
“Are you kidding me? What took you so long?”
“You’re kind of intimidating.” Jack closed the narrowing distance between their lips and kissed her hard. He pulled away with a muttered curse, “And not the most forgiving of people… besides, every time I turned around that pesky detective was sniffing around. You’re not seeing him, are you?”
“Maybe I am.”
“He’s a really nice guy, but he doesn’t really seem like your type…”
“Oh yeah, and what’s my type?”
His voice grew faint and husky. “Me… And only me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
_____________
T WO days later, Peter had been released from the hospital and Jack and Juniper stood inside the passage that led into the neighbor’s carriage house, where Jack was putting on a sliding barrel bolt and Juniper was doing her best to explain Lulu’s story—how she’d owned but been tricked into selling the Doctors House and of course how Kaitlyn was her daughter.
“So Frank was guilty too?” He said, drilling the plate in place.
Juniper waited for the loud whir of the drill to stop. “Well no, not like Helen, but he admitted that she blackmailed him twenty two years ago and I think he turned a blind eye after that.”
He paused and turned to me. “What did Helen blackmail him with and why?”
“According to Helen, who is trying to cut a deal, she caught Frank in bed with Lulu one night, which ultimately resulted in Kaitlyn.”
“Lulu and Frank were having an affair?” Jack asked, holding my gaze for a beat.
“No. Helen was drugging Lulu so that she would see ghosts in order to convince her to sell the house. She began to sleep at Helen’s house at least once a week. While she was unconscious, Frank decided to hop into bed with her and raped her and Helen caught him.”
“When she began to experience morning sickness, Helen devised a plan. She told Peter that she’d caught Lulu seducing Frank and that he admitted they’d slept together once before. She convinced him that it was because of her mental problems and that she’d gone off her meds so she didn’t remember and that it would be best for everyone if Frank and her raised Kaitlyn as their own. Peter reluctantly agreed.”
Jack looked confused. “What about Lulu? She must have known she had a baby.”
They paused while he drilled the other fastener in place. When he was done, Juniper continued on with the story. “Helen paid off the hospital staff and told Lulu the baby died. Helen had been wearing a fake belly so everyone thought she was pregnant too and that she delivered Kaitlyn. After that, Lulu really did start to have mental issues, whether it was the side effects from the drugs or losing the baby.”
“Who wouldn’t have? What a screwed up, twisted thing to do to a person.” Jack commented.
“I know. Peter had her committed for a month but eventually he felt bad and had her released and, from then on, Helen said he doted on her completely, letting his business fall to the side. That’s why they were having money issues.”
Jack nodded his head, sighing. “That’s too bad. Hey, I found the wires for the sound system in here,” he said, shifting on his side and peering into the hole.
“The what?”
“The sound system. You know, it’s how she played the music.” He pointed at the wire. “Hand me that flashlight.”
Juniper knelt down, reached inside the bag, and pulled out the larger flashlight.
“You look so… manly,” Juniper told him.
He smiled at her. “What?”
Juniper grinned. “I dunno. You’ve got all these tools, and it’s very sexy.” As soon as Juniper said the word, she bit back a giggle.
“Good to know,” he said. “I’ll be sure to work with tools, I mean flashlights more often.” He straightened and walked down the hall—the one that led to the dead end.
“Where are you going?” Juniper asked. “Are we done putting the lock on this door?”
“Yes,” he clarified. “I just want to see where this wire leads to.” They walked for a minute until they came to the end of the hall. It was the same dead end that the detective and Juniper had first found. “That doesn’t make any sense? It must lead somewhere.” He frowned and climbed the ladder until he could push on the roof. Sure enough it moved and light crept in. “Voila. We found the control for the sound system.” The dials stared him in the face. He pushed the hatch all the way open. “And another exit,” he said, climbing all the way out. “The gardens on the hill.”
“Well, I guess we know how she was able to get around.”
An hour later, they were served pints at the Pub in the next town over. Jack sipped his craft brew, “So, how did you know all those details?”
“Well, some of it Helen rhymed off while she was pointing a gun at me, and some of it the police told me.”
“Why would the police tell you anything?”
“I guess I’m making friends here.”
“I bet it was that Detective Lumos guy. You better be careful. I think he’s got his eye on you.”
“Why should I be careful?” Juniper smiled and chewed flirtatiously on her lip, all innocent like. “I’m teasing. It was because Lulu insisted I be there when they questioned her and they told her a lot of it. Oh, and they found our missing book—guess what was inside?”
“What?”
They paused while the waitress returned to offer refills and dropped off the appetizers. There was no point spreading the gossip further; Lulu was going to have enough to live with. When she was gone Juniper continued on with the story. “Kaitlyn’s real birth certificate—Peter had hidden it inside the book with a note—I guess he had a feeling he might need it someday. He showed it to Kaitlyn and we think she was planning to confront Helen with it when she killed her. She must have told Pearl about it—or at least told her there was something important inside that book.”
Just then the door opened and in walked Pike.
“Well what’s the emergency?” She asked, squishing into the booth beside Juniper. “Why did you need me to meet you here ASAP?”
“Take your coat off, order a drink—all in due time,” Juniper said, motioning for the server to bring another beer. “Where were you, anyway?”
“Visiting Lulu,” she said, stealing a sip of Juniper’s beer.
“Junie’s been filling me in. What a crazy town this is,” Jack teased.
“Tell me about it.” She dropped her purse on the floor and it landed with a thud. “What’s going on in this town? It used to be so dull and monotonous and… safe. I don’t understand. There was a complete soap opera happening under my nose or rather in my shop.”
“How is Lulu doing?” Juniper asked.
“She’s doing better. They’re running some tests to see what sort of long-term effects the drugs Helen was giving her might have had. The things she told me were crazy though. I understand now why Peter was always hovering and calling her and checking up on her. I thought he was controlling, but he was simply worried about her.”
“Is she going to be alright, do you think?” Jack asked.
; “I think she’ll bounce back and I’ll be there when she does.”
“Well if she doesn’t bounce back and you need a place to run your business out of, you could move into the Inn.”
“What?”
“Jack and I discussed it and we turned down the real estate offer. We’re thinking that maybe this time we’re gonna stick around.”
“You’re going to open an Inn at the Doctors House.”
“Yes, only we won’t call it that anymore. We’ve settled on the Gothic Haunt.”
She looked down as if only just noticing that Jack and Juniper were holding hands.
“And this thing between you to… it’s back on.”
Juniper nodded.
“I love it!” Pike shouted, practically spraying her beer on Juniper. “And I’m no expert, but this Inn is going to make so much money. I mean aside from the Caravan, the closest motel or bed-and-breakfast is thirty minutes away. Everyone is always complaining when there’s a wedding or a function that there’s nowhere for out-of-towners to stay.”
“Sooo… would you want to move your cafe in? We could make room,” Juniper asked again pinching her arm.
“That’s a sweet offer, but I’m good across the road. Lulu is staying whether she likes it or not. I do have another idea though.” She eyed the room dangerously.
“Go on,” Juniper said, knowing exactly where she was heading.
“What about one of these?”
“A pub?” Juniper asked.
“Yeah, we don’t have anything like this in town and I’ve heard it suggested a few times now at the town meetings but no one has the space.”
“I think you’re right,” Juniper said. “Which is what Jack, and I were thinking, too if you didn’t want to move in.”
“But not a full restaurant like this one, because we don’t want that sort of hassle,” Jack clarified.
“No,” Juniper agreed. “We were thinking more of a taproom, somewhere for the guests to have a drink and a light bite to eat.”
“How about tapas,” said Pike.
“I love tapas,” Juniper agreed. “Of course, if you refuse to partner with us then you may have to teach me to cook or maybe I’ll buy a cookbook. Do they still sell those?”
Pike laughed. “That reminds me, I brought you guys a house warming gift. Well, it’s not from me… it’s from Lulu.”
“Seriously?”
She refused to meet Juniper’s eyes, but she held out a book that looked to be a hundred years old.
“What in the world is this?”
“Victoria’s Diary.”
“And you’re giving it to me because…?”
“Lulu said it needs to stay with the house. I think she still believes that Victoria really does haunt the place. It might be neat to read it.”
Juniper frowned, thinking it over. “I guess it would be interesting. Let’s just hope I don’t start seeing any ghosts.”
Thanks for reading Cookies, Corpses and the Deadly Haunt. Check out Candy Canes, Corpses and the Gothic Haunt to find out what becomes of the Doctor’s House. In the mood for more Bohemian Lake stories? Keep reading for a sneak peek at the Penning Trouble mystery series: MURDER, SHE FLOATS.
Chapter One
_____________
T he night was hot and soaked in the smell of freshly cut grass. Ignoring the sweat trickling down my breastbone, I sank deeper into position, focusing on the crickets and frogs serenading me. This little cabin on the outskirts of Bohemian Lake was a far cry from the honking horns and bright lights of the city that I’d left in my rearview mirror earlier today, but as my father always said, home is where the heart is. My hometown wasn’t a happening place, but it had heart. Not to mention crazy, loveable characters; and charming, melodic waves that lapped at the shores—bewitching tourists and locals alike. Perhaps those magical waves explained why I was back in town, crashing at a friend’s cabin, about to start work at the Private Eye again. Well, that and the fact that I’d been dumped.
I squeezed my eyes shut and adjusted my stance, forgetting about the wounds that needed licking. I’d studied mixed martial arts for years now and I was used to holding poses to the snarl of motorcycles and the bleat of sirens, and my focus at times was unbreakable. Unfortunately, that was not the case tonight. Insects hummed outside the open cabin windows, irritating me despite my best efforts to tune them out, and that’s when it dawned on me that the remote whine ricocheting between my ears was too loud to be mosquitoes. I emerged from my sunken stance and walked to the screen. The lake was choppy and yet the pines and the weeping willows were still.
No breeze.
It didn’t take an investigative genius to figure out that the waves were caused by something else–like an outboard motor. I peered closer. Something idled on the far side of the lake by Caravan Manor. Oh well, not my concern. I’d just driven from the city–three hours, thanks to long-weekend traffic–and unpacked all of my basics in under four hours. I needed at least forty winks before I got nosey.
The moment my head hit that down-filled pillow I was out like the cheetah print lamp next to me–swept away to the hazy borderland of sleep. I woke a little while later, tucked into the coziness of my white duvet, with warmth on my earlobe and a hand on my elbow. Then that hand crept inward, and I smelled metallic, fetid breath. Wait a minute… I’d gone to bed alone.
My body lurched awake, my martial arts training kicking in, and I was on my feet and in attack mode before my eyes were even open. I clutched for my phone on the nightstand, blinking rapidly.
“Who in the hell are you?” I yelled.
“Olivia? It’s me.”
I swiped my finger up and hit the flashlight button on my phone, angling it toward the intruder now sprawled on top of the duvet. I yanked it from under him and covered my body, clad in only a flimsy pink tank top and flamingo boxers. Not that I had anything to hide. Then I pushed my hair from my eyes and stared down my nose at the relaxed gentleman lying in bed. And by relaxed, I mean the snoring, dead-to-the-world drunk who’d already drifted back to sleep, probably dreaming of more ways to accost me.
I picked up my hairbrush from the nightstand and whacked him hard in the hamstring. Boy, had he picked the wrong bed.
He snorted and rolled over.
I tapped him again. “Dude, Olivia’s not here. She’s traveling.” Guinness, my dog, barked from outside the open window. “Get out before I call the cops.”
“Before you call the cops…” He chuckled. “Is that you, Penelope Trubble? I thought you were a big-city cop now.”
I squinted. Midnight Molester knew me. His voice tickled the back of my own sleep-drenched memory. “Ben Baboon?”
“The one and only,” he grunted, and then scratched places that should not be scratched in a lady’s presence.
Yup, it was the baboon all right, one of my least favorite people in town. I remembered him all too well from the old school party circuit, which consisted of bonfires and field parties where I drank whisky sours by the barrel and my heavy wing-tipped eyeliner made Amy Winehouse look like a fresh-faced kid. That was all back before I’d joined the police force. I’d lasted a week before I quit.
“Law enforcement wasn’t for me,” I replied to his earlier comment. “I write for a national travel magazine now.”
“So, you’re the one that started all this chaos.”
“Started what? I’m just here to help Dad out for the summer.”
“You’re investigating for him again?” he questioned.
“I may assist with a case or two, but I’m mainly back to help run the paper. You must have heard Dad bought the newspaper.”
“You went from a cop to answering phones for Daddy? Yeesh.”
I bit my lip. This was the same guy who couldn’t hack the responsibility of doing up his fly on a regular basis. “I’m a journalist, thanks!” Truthfully, I’d told Dad I would do everything from answering phones to updating the website and selling ads, but Ben didn’t need to know that.
“You still live in Boho?” I asked, lowering my phone although I had enjoyed spotlighting him like a criminal.
Ben sat up, his love handles and tattered tighty whities in full view. “I left for a few months, too.”
I looked around the bedroom for my black cotton robe and tugged it on. Then I strode decisively into the kitchen, hoping he’d take the hint and skedaddle. He did follow me, but instead of leaving he opened the cupboards and then the fridge. Apparently this bed-and-breakfast served food.
“Why are you here?”
No response.
“Are you dating Olivia or something?”
“No,” he replied. “Not lately. I just always drop in to say hello to her when I’m back in town. It’s been a while…”
“I see.” That explained why he didn’t know she was off traveling on the other side of the world at the moment.
“So, where do you live now?”
He cracked a can of Olivia’s cider beer he found in the fridge and stuck his hand in a drawer, pulling out a protein bar. “Finally something decent to eat.” He ripped the edge and took a bite, then swallowed and made a sourpuss face. “What in the hell kind of chocolate bar is this?” He took another bite and threw the half-eaten bar aside.
I scowled. He’d just wasted my last chocolate cookie dough protein bar; I’d have to drive at least thirty minutes to buy more. He was standing in a position that left him wide open. I could give him a powerful jab to the groin, and when he doubled over I could elbow the back of his neck. Then he’d think twice about wasting my food. Temper. Temper. Instead, I opened the front door and stepped outside in the hopes that the beautiful ambiance would keep me from dropkicking this dope.
Bohemian Lake had always had a soothing effect on me–the rolling hills, thick woodland, and that lakeshore. I was pulled from my reverie by the sound of an ATV engine. It reminded me of the motorboat I’d seen earlier.
“Hey, Ben, get out here.”
He peered out the door, taking a break from chomping down on crackers and dropping crumbs all over my freshly scrubbed floor. He’d clearly found my snack cupboard and thankfully his jeans.
Cookies, Corpses and the Deadly Haunt: Haunted House Flippers Inc. (Bohemian Lake Book 2) Page 14