Inn Keeping With Murder

by Lynn Bohart

  Doe nodded. “Okay, I’ll write it down.”

  “And when I bought the table from Martha, she asked me about going to confession,” I said.

  “Not only that,” Rudy said. “She said something about taking something that belonged to someone else.”

  We all looked at Rudy like deer in the headlights.

  “You’re right, she did,” I said, slightly stunned. “It’s the book again. She must have been talking about the book.”

  “She said she took something ‘for the greater good.’ Maybe she was trying to protect someone.” April was thinking out loud.

  “Or save someone,” I said, my mind beginning to sort through a number of memories from over the last few days.

  Doe wrote that down and said. “Let’s stick to what we know for the moment. According to Martha’s cleaning gal, Carlita, Martha began listening to the MP3 player and then Carlita overheard that phone conversation.”

  Doe wrote as she talked.

  “And at some point, someone poisoned Julia’s box of homemade fudge wrapped for Senator Pesante,” Blair said, jumping in. “We just don’t know when.”

  “Hold it. Can we back up a bit?” Rudy said. “We need to know when the MP3 player was given to Martha, because it would have taken a couple of days for the messages to have worked.”

  “Well,” Doe began, reaching over and taking another sip of wine. “Carlita said she saw the device for the first time last Tuesday.”

  “But that still doesn’t give us the exact day that she got it,” Rudy said.

  “I think I can narrow it down,” I said, feeling my energy slowly returning. “When Martha stopped by on Saturday to get the check for the table, I asked her how she was feeling, since she’d missed a couple of days at the shelter. She said she was having trouble sleeping and asked me about sleeping medicine. I forgot all about that,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, she couldn’t have had the tape then or she would have been using it. So she must have gotten it sometime between Saturday and Tuesday.”

  “Dang it!” Blair said, suddenly sitting up straight. “All this talk about sleep just made me remember something, too. I saw Martha at Safeway just after church on Sunday. I was just coming back from the gym. She loved Downton Abbey, right?” The girls nodded in agreement. “I asked her if she was going to watch the new episode that night, but she said she didn’t know. All she knew was that she was going home to take a nap because she was exhausted. When I asked her why, she said she had a lot on her mind and couldn’t sleep.”

  “So, she didn’t have the tape on Sunday, either,” Doe said, writing it down. “That means she probably didn’t get it until Monday. Did anyone talk to her that day?”

  It was quiet for a moment as we all thought.

  “Actually, I did,” I said, looking up. “That’s the day I called to ask her if I could borrow her chafing dish for the Christmas Eve party, and she said no, she’d already offered it to someone else. We talked for just a few minutes, and frankly, she was kind of curt with me. Then the doorbell rang and she said, ‘That must be Jeremy. I have to go.’”

  “Who’s Jeremy?” April asked.

  “I have no idea…I just…oh, shit!” I said, nearly coming off the sofa. Both dogs rolled onto the floor as I sat forward. “Father Bentley introduced me to him today. He runs the church’s recording studio. He’s the guy I’m supposed to meet tomorrow afternoon to make the background tape for Martha’s memorial service.”

  “Wow, so you think this Jeremy gave Martha the tape?” April said somberly.

  “Yeah. Maybe,” I said.

  “What was he like?” Rudy asked.

  “A skinny kid. Not much to look at. But Father Bentley said he’d had a tough life and was finally getting it together. And he’s the only one who knows how to use the equipment.”

  “A recording studio,” Blair said. “The perfect place to make a subliminal recording.”

  Her expression betrayed her anger at the memory of her own experience with the MP3 player.

  “So, Martha must have been the target,” Rudy said, leaning forward onto her knees. “But if they knew Martha had the ledger book, why didn’t they just kill her in her own home and then tear the house apart until they found it? Instead, they killed her in a way that threw suspicion on everyone else and then went looking for the book, anyway.”

  “Maybe they didn’t know she had the book,” Doe said.

  “I think they did,” April said. “Because they started looking for it pretty quickly. In fact, that could be why someone was at Martha’s home the night Julia and José picked up the table.”

  I looked over at April as the proverbial light bulb went on over my head.

  “Of course. It wasn’t just a thief—it was someone looking for the book! It didn’t make sense at the time, but when we got there, Martha’s three hand-blown glass bowls that usually sat on the table had been moved. I thought she’d moved them getting the table ready for me to take.”

  “Sounds more like you interrupted them,” Rudy said.

  A cold chill ran the length of my spine. I’d had too many close calls.

  “Then that’s why they broke into my warehouse,” I said. “They knew I had the table. But since they hadn’t gotten as far as taking the tablecloth off, they didn’t know what the table looked like. When they didn’t find the book anywhere else in the house, they came to our warehouse looking for the table. When they found the secret drawer, they found the hiding place, but no book, because Mr. Garth had already removed it. So they went through our offices and bookshelves and then went to Mr. Garth’s house, thinking he may have taken it.”

  “But doesn’t that prove that José didn’t kill Mr. Garth?” Blair said. “He would have known exactly which table it was, since he helped you pick it up. And he could have gone in there at any time Friday night and found that book before Mr. Garth started refinishing the table.”

  “Thank you, Blair,” I said with a grateful smile.

  “But none of this explains why they attacked you today,” April said.

  “Because they didn’t find the book at Mr. Garth’s, either. And by Sunday afternoon, everyone and their brother knew that I had it.”

  “What do you mean?” Rudy asked.

  I glanced around the room, knowing that my occasional ineptness would not be news to anyone there. And yet, it was still humiliating.

  “April had put the book into a box because I was originally going to make it look like I was sending something to Graham—so no one would disturb it,” I said. “When I brought the box back here to the inn, I put it on the reception desk. Sybil showed up to get toys for the dog and stuck her big nose into the box at one point.” I sighed. “And then when that Mr. Brown checked in, I knocked the box off the counter right in front of him. The book slid out. Libby and Ms. Jenkins were both standing there, so all three of them saw it.”

  Other than Rudy murmuring, “Wow,” they were kind enough not to groan out loud, but I could tell that inwardly they were cringing.

  “But there’s that Ms. Jenkins again,” Blair said.

  “And then later that night, you think Mr. Brown broke into your apartment?” April said.

  I looked over at her. “Because he knew I had the book.”

  “What kind of car did he drive?” Rudy asked.

  I closed my eyes for a minute and thought back to when Mr. Brown went back outside to get his license plate number.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “It was dark outside and all I saw was a big black bumper.”

  The room was quiet for a moment, making me look up.

  “What?”

  “A black bumper, Julia?” Rudy said with an incredulous tone.

  I stared back at her blankly.

  “Maybe a Hummer?” she said, prodding me.

  I gasped as I realized she was right. Minnie suddenly climbed up onto my chest, sensing my despair. I wrapped my arms around her and moved her down to my lap.

  “It’s okay, g
irl,” I murmured to her. I used a tissue to wipe away the tears.

  “But we still haven’t figured out how he got into my apartment. The key is different than the one to the inn, obviously.”

  “Who has keys to your apartment?” Doe inquired.

  “April,” I said, nodding in her direction. “Libby and… Sybil.”

  “Sounds like somehow he got one of those keys,” Rudy said.

  “Mine is with me all the time,” April said, fingering her pocket.

  “There’s also a spare key in the office,” I said.

  “How long has Libby worked for you?” Blair asked.

  “About two years. But…” Suddenly Libby’s face flashed through my mind. “You know, I noticed something weird just before Libby took Mr. Brown to his room. For a moment, I thought she knew him. It was just something about how she looked at him and then looked away, as if she recognized him.”

  “Libby?” April looked skeptical. “She couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “I wouldn’t think so, either, but…”

  “If I had to vote for anyone, I’d vote for Sybil,” Rudy said. “You said she saw the book, and she’s a pain in the butt.” Rudy wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  “I don’t know,” I said, skeptically. “I wouldn’t think Sybil had the brains to do anything criminal.”

  “Yes, but she did know that the dogs would be gone, so the burglar could get in more easily,” April said.

  “True,” I said. “But I’m pretty sure Libby did, too. I think she heard Sybil suggest taking the dogs when we were out in the bakery.”

  “Who didn’t know Lucy was coming?” Rudy asked.

  I thought for a moment. “I think just José and Libby. Well, Sybil didn’t, either.”

  “So, what have we learned?” Doe said, bringing us back to the whiteboard.

  Rudy got up and stared at what Doe had written on the board. “That there’s a whole bunch of arrows pointing in different directions,” she said. Then she poured herself more wine.

  “Julia, you said you were going to tell us how this might be connected to the shelter,” Doe reminded me.

  I took a deep sigh before I began, thinking that this was far more complicated than I had ever imagined.

  “When I was at the shelter on Friday, I heard one of the young women crying. Her name is Rosa, and she doesn’t speak any English, or at least I thought she didn’t. She was in the chapel. When I came in, she was talking to herself, saying something about someone taking her baby. But she was saying it in English. When I asked her about it, she almost came out of her skin. She was terrified I would tell someone. She told me that she met a woman in Venezuela at a medical clinic who said she knew someone who could bring her to America for a new life. But they wouldn’t take anyone who spoke English. So she lied. And then she overheard two people outside the laundry room at the shelter. These people mentioned her name and something about taking her baby.”

  “Any chance she just misunderstood?” Rudy’s face betrayed her skepticism.

  “I wanted to think so. But I looked at her file, and Monica Garrett is the one who found her on the street and brought her to the shelter.”

  “Monica Garrett…from the church? I didn’t know she had anything to do with the shelter,” Doe said.

  “And now this Jeremy from the church may have made the tape that killed Martha,” April said, putting a period at the end of the sentence.

  “Right,” I said.

  “Someone should talk to Father Bentley,” Blair said, grabbing a handful of nuts from a side dish.

  I looked over at her. “And say what? We don’t have any proof. And there’s one more thing.” I looked down and stroked Minnie’s head. “When I was at the church today, I saw a notebook exactly like the one Mr. Garth found in the table. You know, with that paisley cover? It was just a different color. I asked Cora where it came from, and she said that her brother-in-law owns an office supply company.”

  “That’s a weak thread,” Rudy said. “They’re probably sold in all the office supply stores.”

  “I know. That’s what I thought at the time. But I’m like Detective Abrams… I don’t believe in coincidences, and I think there are too many when it comes to the church and the shelter.”

  “You think Martha found something out about the shelter, something having to do with that book, and she was killed for it?” April said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  There, I’d said it. All the thoughts that had been swirling around in my head had now been put out on the table—or the whiteboard. And I felt oddly relieved, as if I’d just turned in a major term paper.

  Everyone sat quietly for a few moments. Rudy swirled the wine in her glass. Doe absentmindedly corrected something on the whiteboard. Blair munched on a cashew. And April stared into the fire, while I stroked Minnie’s long nose.

  “So, if we follow that thread,” Rudy began, lifting her eyes to mine. “Then it all goes back to the shelter.”

  “I’d bet on it,” I said. “That must be what Martha meant when she told Emily that volunteering there wasn’t what she thought it would be. The shelter had let her down.”

  “But this Rosa said someone was going to take her baby. Do we think they’re stealing babies?” Doe said, the tone in her voice betraying her doubt.

  “I don’t know,” I sighed, shaking my head. “It’s hard to believe. But it’s certainly done in other parts of the world.”

  “But how would Monica Garrett play into all of this?” she asked.

  “That’s what I’d like to know. Supposedly, Monica just found Rosa on the streets of Seattle, and like a good Samaritan, brought her to the shelter. But if that was her having a conversation about Rosa’s baby outside the laundry, then she actually knows the woman who brought Rosa into the country.”

  “It smells wrong,” Blair said. “In fact, I think it stinks.”

  “There’s one more thing that stinks,” I said. “I saw Dana Finkle today at the shelter. Apparently she’s joined their board of directors.”

  “God! I knew it,” Rudy said, slapping her leg. “That woman is the devil in disguise.”

  “Maybe it’s time to call that good-looking detective back,” Doe said, lifting her glass as if in a toast. “We could offer him a glass of wine and then explain what we know.”

  “What good-looking detective?” Blair said, her eyes alight with interest.

  “I just wish I knew what Martha found,” I said, ignoring Blair. “What is it about that book?”

  “Can you remember what was in it?” April asked.

  “No,” I shook my head. “Too many abbreviations and numbers.”

  “I can,” Blair said with a nonchalant toss of her head.

  We all looked at her in surprise.

  “You only saw it for a brief minute last night,” Rudy said.

  “That was enough. Get me a piece of paper and a pencil,” she said.

  April got up and retrieved what she’d asked for. When she returned, Blair came over and kneeled down on the floor on the other side of the coffee table in front of me. She moved my anniversary picture book of The Wizard of Oz, spread out the paper, and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she began to draw the chart she’d seen from memory. Rudy and Doe came up behind her, looking over her shoulder.

  A few minutes later, she said, “That’s it!”

  Doe said. “Jeez, Blair, I knew you had a good memory for things like shoes and handbags, but…”

  “I know…but I’m just a ditz,” she said without a hint of irritation.

  “No, Blair,” I said, turning the paper around so that I could see it, “we’ve never thought you were a ditz. We just thought you didn’t care about things like this.”

  “I don’t,” she said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “But once I see something, I don’t forget it.”

  “Why haven’t you ever said anything?” Rudy asked.

  “She has, in a way,” Doe said. “Think a
bout it. Who do we go to when we need the name of something…a perfume, a restaurant, a street? Or if we need the date of something that happened six years ago…”

  Blair smiled gently. “I’ve been able to remember things since I was little. But I can’t help you figure out what all of that means,” she said forlornly. “Sorry.”

  Doe and Rudy were looking down on the chart. I turned it around again so they could see it.

  “Wait a minute,” Doe said, leaning over. “What’s Rosa’s last name?”

  “Cordero.”

  “Look there. RC,” she said. “That could stand for Rosa Cordero.”

  I twisted around to see the columns better. The RC was sitting right next to the number 19.

  “Yes, it could. And she’s nineteen years old,” I said, pointing to the number 19.

  “What if these are ports?” Rudy said, pointing to the second column. “SEA must stand for Seattle. Which would mean Rosa came into Seattle, while some of these other girls came into, what? I don’t recognize any of the others.”

  “Maybe SEA isn’t the airport” April said.

  “It’s gotta be,” Doe said. “What else could it be?”

  “Hold on,” Rudy held up a hand. She pulled out her smart phone and spelled something out on the keyboard. “Ha!” she said. “SEA is Seattle, and IAD is Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C. MSP is Minneapolis.”

  “So then TPA is Tampa,” Blair said. “Mr. Billings and I flew in there a few months ago.”

  “Right,” Rudy agreed, putting her phone away.

  “So, what do we think?” Doe said, pulling over one of the chairs.

  “If we’re thinking pregnancies, what if DD stands for due date?” Blair spoke up. “What if they’re all pregnant?”

  That shut us up for a moment.

  “Oh my God!” I said as a chill rippled down my back. “If they’re all pregnant, then maybe Rosa is right. God, I wish Libby was here. She used to be an obstetrics nurse. If they’re tracking pregnancies, she may know what some of these other initials mean.”

  It got suddenly quiet again, forcing me to look up a second time.

  “What?” I said, as I realized everyone was staring at me.

  “Libby used to be an obstetrics nurse?” Rudy said, the sarcasm dripping from her lips.