Roses Are Red; He’s Dead
Janet McNulty
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents within are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or location is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Roses Are Red; He’s Dead
Copyright © 2015 Janet McNulty
Cover Illustration by Robert M. Henry
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
To all those who ever thought that trouble followed them.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
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Chapter 1
“May I open them now?” I asked Greg as I sat in the passenger seat of his car with my eyes shut.
Greg had been secretive for the last two weeks about this trip of ours, which he had planned with meticulous detail, saying that it was a big surprise. The closer we got to our destination, the harder it was for me to contain my excitement and curiosity. I felt the car slow a bit as he turned left onto a road riddled with potholes—some so large that they swallowed the tires.
“Not yet,” he answered.
“Well, when may I?”
“In a moment.”
The suspense was killing me. “You’re not taking me to some creepy cabin in the woods are you?” I joked.
“No,” laughed Greg.
I fidgeted in my seat. I hated being left in the dark.
“Okay, now you can open them.”
I squinted a bit as my eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sun reflecting on the crystalline snow. Greg had brought us to what looked like a luxurious bed and breakfast for our getaway vacation. The homely building had two floors, with a quant setting and log cabin appeal. Though small, it looked like it could be a comfortable place for a romantic setting. A sign hung from the overhang of the porch with the words “Emily’s Spa/Resort”. The exterior possessed that quaint and at-home feel, but as we drove along the winding driveway, I noticed that the building was much larger than the front side had indicated.
“What is this place?” I asked Greg.
“It’s a resort, of sorts,” said Greg. “It started out as a bed and breakfast, but later they expanded. See those trees over there? There is a hiking trail that goes through there.”
“How did you find this place?”
“An internet search.” Greg parked the car. “I know we have both been very busy with school and work and everything, so I figured we could use a nice break.”
The one thing that Greg didn’t mention was the fact that I tend to get involved in murder cases. Not that I ever wanted to, but it just sort of happens. Of course, it all started when I met Rachel: a ghost who had rented my apartment before Jackie and I had moved in. She had been murdered a year earlier and enlisted my help to catch the killer. Ever since then, ghosts just seem to show up at my front door—so to speak—wanting my help and I needed a break. Being Valentine’s Day weekend, I had to commend Greg for planning this entire weekend without my knowing about it. The only thing I knew was that we were going away, but I had no idea where, or for what. Though, I think Jackie almost spilled the beans a few times.
“I hope you like it,” said Greg as he got our luggage from the trunk of the car.
I looked around at the out of the way area. It looked peaceful. “You did good,” I told him.
I took my suitcase and helped Greg carry the bags through the oak doors that led into a modern, with some antique chairs in the center, decorated place that was much larger on the inside than the exterior indicated. To the far right, rested the check-in counter with a middle-aged woman tending it.
“Checking in?” she said.
“Yes,” replied Greg. “We have a reservation. Here’s all of the information.” Greg handed her a print out of the reservations he had made.
The woman took the paper with her boney fingers; her mouth scrunched a bit as she studied it, typing the reservation number into the computer. She leaned in closer to read the screen. “Ah, here you are. Just the two of you?”
“Yes,” replied Greg.
“How nice,” said the woman. “We get a lot of young couples up here like you two. Been together long?”
“A couple of years,” I said.
A satisfied smile crept across her face. “I’m Emily and I own this place. Now don’t let this small lobby fool you. We have the entire wooded area behind the building. There are hiking trails, a pond with ducks in it, and a nice grassy common area where you can lounge or mingle with other guests. We even have a spa.”
“A spa?” I asked, my shoulder suddenly feeling stiff from all of the work I had been doing lately.
“Yes, here,” Emily pulled out a map. “We are here. The spa is this building here. You can have this.” She handed me the map.
“Thank you.”
“Here are your keys. You will be in this building.”
“Building?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, you had reserved one of our cabins.”
“I thought this was just a bed and breakfast,” I whispered.
“Oh, we started out that way, but as business picked up, I decided to expand. People seem to like resorts; and more customers you know.”
“Thank you,” said Greg, taking the keys and handing me the map.
“Just go out that door and turn to your left,” said Emily.
Greg thanked her again.
“Enjoy your stay, dears,” Emily waved and smiled before turning to help another customer.
I followed Greg outside the door that Emily had pointed us to. A huge wooden deck greeted us with lounge chairs—most of them with an occupant—and tables. Steps led to the grassy area. I was surprised that it actually had green grass on it with all of the snow around. A man on a bobcat clearing the snow from a nearby walk told me how they had managed it.
It actually felt warmer in this area compared to the parking lot, almost as though it was somehow temperature controlled. A glint of glass caught my eye. On closer inspection, I noticed it was a thermostat.
“These decks are heated,” said a man, dressed in a white, polo shirt with the resort’s logo on the upper left side just below the shoulder.
“What?” I asked, startled.
“Heated,” said the man. “You know how some people have heated floors in their homes. Well, Emily decided to have heated decks. Wires run through the ceramic flooring, keeping it at a constant 70 degrees. Oh, it’s perfectly safe,” he added when he noticed my doubtful look. “That is why the grass is green down there. Panels lay underneath the dirt, keeping it warm
enough to support the growth of the grass. And Joe out there has the lovely job of clearing the snow.”
I surveyed at the man on the bobcat. “But this looks like real wood.”
“It’s supposed to.”
I glanced at the people lounging on the deck underneath the heating lamps that were spread throughout. It did feel warm, despite the snow.
“Emily likes to make it as summer-like as she can out here, hence the panels and the heating lamps. I’m telling you, I never have to wear my coat on this deck. Of course, once you leave it, you’ll wish you had one.”
“Mel,” said Greg.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself,” said the man. “My name is Chad.”
“Mel,” I said, shaking his hand, “and this is, Greg.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Greg. “Mel, we should get going.”
“Oh, what cabin are you in?” asked Chad.
“12,” said Greg.
“That’s it right down there. Those stairs will take you to the path that will lead you right to it.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Do you work here?”
“Guilty,” replied Chad. “I’m in charge of making sure that the deck stays clean and the clients are happy. If you need anything, just ask.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Chad waved and hurried over to a woman on a lounge chair who wanted a refill on her drink.
I followed Greg down the stairs with our bags. With it being heated, there wasn’t a patch of ice on the deck and I really wanted to take off my coat. At least, now I knew why everyone only wore shirt sleeves or a sweater. The path was where Chad said it would be, a nice paved stone with little marbles on the surface adding some character.
The little, wood cabin looked ornate with smoke coming out of the chimney and tiny, frosted windows on the sides. A small flower box lay in one of the windows; of course, there weren’t any flowers in it, but that didn’t bother me.
Greg swiped the key card in the slot on the door. The light turned green and the door popped open. “Looks old-fashioned, but still uses modern technology,” he said.
We walked inside and turned on a lamp. A fire blazed in the fireplace. It was one of those gas fireplaces controlled with a remote. Someone must have turned it on just before our arrival. The cabin that looked small on the outside was actually bigger on the inside with its layout. The entrance opened into a nice living area with a kitchenette. A T.V. hung on one wall with a couch and chair in front of it. There was even a coffee table with a vase and some fake flowers. I opened one of the cabinets in the kitchenette. It had a few pots and pans and a dish set that served four. Glasses were in another cabinet.
“Well, if they have a grocery store we can cook our own meals,” I said.
“They do,” replied Greg. “There’s a small grocery about a quarter of a mile away and a nice walking path that leads right to it.”
“Of course,” I mumbled, but it didn’t surprise me.
I took my suitcase into the bedroom. A very comfortable looking king-sized bed lay in there with a thick, down comforter and fluffy pillows twice the size of what I had at home. A door on my right led to the bathroom. “This is really nice,” I said, plopping my suitcase on the bed. A dresser sat next to the wall with a chair.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“How much does this all cost?”
“Now don’t you worry about it,” said Greg. “It’s all paid for with money I had been saving up just for this occasion. I thought we could use a nice weekend away. No classes. No work. No ghosts.”
I chuckled at that last part.
“Seriously, though, no ghosts,” said Greg. “Rachel doesn’t know where we are does she?”
“No,” I replied, “I made certain that only Jackie knew we were going away for the weekend. But you know how ghosts are. They always seem to find stuff out.”
Greg grimaced at that.
“Look, let’s just have a good time and not think about it,” I said, as I unpacked my bag and put my clothes in the dresser and closet. I noticed Greg pull something small, and rectangular, out of his luggage. When he noticed me watching, he shoved it in his pocket and turned away. Though curious, I didn’t press the matter. I guess every man has his secrets and it probably wasn’t important anyway. Shrugging it off, I continued unpacking and tore off my coat.
A knock sounded at the door. Who could that be? I walked over to the front door and opened it. A woman stood there with a fruit basket. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” she said, “but I forgot to put this in here this morning when I cleaned the room.”
“That’s okay,” I said, taking the basket.
“I was hoping to get here before you checked in.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her.
“If you need any extra towels, toiletries, or anything, just let me know. You can dial nine on the phone there to reach room service and dial eight to reach the maid’s service; that’s me.”
I glanced over at a table in the corner of the living room that had a simple touch tone phone. “Sure. I’ll do that. And thanks for the basket.”
The woman walked off, pleased that I wasn’t angry about her forgetfulness. A man loitered on the stone path. He seemed to be studying me. I couldn’t place it; something about him seemed off, but I ignored it since this was Greg’s and mine’s weekend to relax.
“Who was that?” asked Greg when I closed the door.
“Just the maid,” I said. “She forgot to set this in here.”
I placed the fruit basket on the kitchen counter. The fruit looked delicious so I helped myself to an apple. The crunch and juice in it was just what I needed.
Chapter 2
I finished my apple and pulled out the brochure. They had a spa and it was open from six in the morning until nine at night. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. “Greg, I think I’ll go to the spa. You don’t mind do you?”
“Nah, go ahead,” he replied. “Get that tension in your neck worked out.” He rubbed my shoulders a bit.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you for supper.” I pecked him on the cheek.
“It’s at seven.”
I waved at Greg, grabbed my key card, and headed off to the spa. The past few weeks, I had built up a lot of stress and my shoulders and neck constantly ached. The spa was brightly decorated with big windows to allow as much sunlight in as possible. Flowers lined the walls—real, not fake—providing a fresh aroma, which I found enticing and suddenly wished that spring would arrive. I was so sick of snow.
“Hello, may I help you?” asked he lady behind the desk.
“Yes, I was wondering if I could get a massage? Do I need to make an appointment or…”
“Oh, not at all. Everything around here is available to our guests; no appointment necessary. I just need your name.”
“Mel.”
“Is this your first massage?”
“Yes.” I could just imagine the look on Jackie’s face if she saw me here getting signed up for a massage. She usually had to drag me to a salon to get my nails and hair done.
“Okay, Mel, if you’ll follow me.”
I followed the lady to the back of the parlor where she took me to a private room. The place was inviting with its soft lighting that accentuated the wood floor and walls.
“There is a bathrobe and some towels there. You just help yourself. Someone will be in with you in a moment.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I dropped my stuff and undressed, wrapping one of the towels around myself. The table I laid on had a velvety, plush cushion that hugged my body as I sunk into it enticing me to fall asleep.
“Mel?” said a voice as someone walked in.
“Yes,” I said, sitting up.
“I’m Mindy.”
“Good to meet you.”
“Is this your first massage?”
“Yes.”
“Any aches and pains you want me to work on?’
“My nec
k and shoulders have been really tense lately.”
“Okay, well let’s have you lie down.”
I found myself descending into a world or bliss and relaxation. For a small person, Mindy had some strong fingers. She used lavender oil on my back; the scent filled my nostrils, making me relax even more. I must say, I should have done this earlier. Greg knew what he was doing when he had us come up here.
“You have a lot of tension in your shoulders,” said Mindy. “Do you have a stressful job?”
“Not really,” I replied, feeling even more relaxed. “I work at a local candle store, but I also go to school full-time at the university.”
“Oh. Just starting?”
“No, it’s my third year. I hope to graduate next May with a degree in filmmaking.”
“That’s cool. You want to direct movies?”
“Yeah,” I said. This is the most I talked to any stranger. “I like making films. Short movies, documentaries—that sort of thing.”
“That’s really neat. Maybe you can get in on the Sundance Film Festival.”
I laughed. “Not likely.”
“You never know. Though you might want to take it easy next semester. All work and no play can lead to a very stressful life.”
“Yeah.” I was not about to tell her that I also tend to get visited by ghosts who want me to solve their murder or some mystery. That is a great way to get locked up in the nuthouse. “Guess I ought to take it easy sometime.”
“You here alone?”
“No, I’m here with my boyfriend. He brought me up as a surprise.”
“How nice. We get a lot of couples up here.”
I found myself growing sleepy. This was exactly what I needed.
“Mindy,” came a voice through the intercom, “please come to the front desk.”
Mindy sighed. “I’m so sorry about this. One of our masseuses called in sick. I’ll be right back.”
I told her not to worry about it. I felt so comfortable that I just figured I would take a short nap. Unfortunately, relaxation was not to stay. A small noise sounded outside the door. I ignored it, sure that it was just someone walking past. It happened again.
Roses Are Red; He's Dead (A Mellow Summers Paranormal Mystery Book 9) Page 1