She’d hoped that the media would leave her alone, but she knew that it was inevitable that a few die hard loonies would latch onto the story. She hadn’t pegged Rob as a loony, but she supposed that it just proved that you never could tell.“I know that must have been very difficult for you, since you knew the dead woman and all.” Rob had obviously done his homework.
Annie sighed. “The whole sorry mess was covered in the newspapers, Mr. Reynolds. I don’t really want to rehash all that. If you’d like to ask me more about the history of this place, that’s fine, as long as it doesn’t involve murders and crazy treasure hunters.”
“So you really don’t think that there’s some sort of hidden treasure buried on the property?” Rob’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. Annie softened slightly, recognizing the look as the same one Devon had when he first heard the stories of treasure hidden on Rosewood Place plantation.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied. “This house is a pretty spectacular treasure, wouldn’t you agree? And the history of these people, the Coopers, is pretty valuable, at least to me.” She hesitated. Annie knew that she couldn’t ever tell the media the truth about the real treasure buried in Rose’s grave. If she did, someone would insist on digging it up, and Annie couldn’t stand the thought of Rose’s grave being desecrated like that.
“There have been a few--very few--instances of people finding odd trinkets and treasures on the property. I found a very old coin here when I first moved in, and the Chief of Police found a similar one many years ago, so there is always the possibility that the past has left something behind for us.” Annie smiled and gestured back towards the deck. “I think you’ve seen all the best parts of the property. You’re welcome to film the inside of the house but I think I need to get back to the other guests. It looks like they’ve moved the socializing out on the deck by the pond if you’d care to join them.”
Annie headed back towards the house with Rob and the cameraman following behind. She hoped that she’d nipped his curiosity in the bud, but reminded herself that human nature craved the unusual and morbid, so she might end up having to rehash the whole incident again at some point. For now, her explanation seemed to satisfy Rob. He led Chris on a short tour of the inside of the house before sending the cameraman off in the van.
“Will you need a ride when you check out?” Annie asked him.
“I’m sure I can get someone to come and pick me up,” Rob replied. “But for now, I’m just going to enjoy your lovely home and hospitality.” They stood by the table that held the appetizers and snacks. Annie shuffled empty dishes onto a tray while Rob picked at leftovers. “I’m sorry if I upset you up at the cemetery,” he offered finally. “I’m really not that big of a jerk, but I just thought that if you had any insight into that whole murder-over-treasure mess, well, it might just help me get a lead story for once.”
Annie picked up the tray and looked at Rob. He seemed sincere and slightly frustrated. She realized that he was probably a very good reporter stuck in a very boring job. After all, most journalists probably didn’t dream of doing local reviews of small-town inns.
“Mr. Reynolds, I know you were just doing your job. And if I happen to find anything strange or unusual here on my property, how about I give you the first interview? I just hope you won’t get your hopes up. No offense, but I wouldn’t mind it one bit if I lived a very boring, uneventful life here until I grow old and die,” she laughed.
Annie carried the tray full of dirty things into the kitchen while Rob piled a plate high with leftovers. He grabbed a glass of wine and made his way down to the deck where the other guests had congregated.
Eight wooden Adirondack-style chairs lined the deck and two large tables with sun parasols sat at one end, surrounded by sturdy wrought-iron patio chairs. The deck would easily hold twice as many people as its current number of occupants, and it had the perfect view of the setting sun beyond the murky green pond. Rory had designed it to be both a peaceful place to sip morning coffees and a fun spot for relaxing with a cold beer. Most of the guests seemed to be doing the latter, though Alexander George only nursed a lukewarm glass of lemonade.
Marie Robichaud sat at one of the tables, her rather large handbag perched beside her and a deck of tarot cards spread out in front of her. Kizzy listened intently as Marie read her fortune. From the look on Kizzy’s face, she believed every word that the woman uttered.
“Do you see anything about my love life?” Kizzy asked, taking a large sip from her wine glass.
“Oh, yes,” Marie purred, “I see a dark-haired stranger, a very handsome type who will try to sweep you off your feet.”
Kizzy’s eyes lit up. “That’s much better than the cheating blonde I left in Myrtle Beach,” she replied, finishing off the wine in one gulp.
Frank and Doris each nursed a glass of champagne, and Frank looked as though he might just drift off to sleep at any moment. Rob settled in a chair across from them and smiled amiably. He pulled out his phone and was pleasantly surprised to find that the house’s free WIFI reached the deck. He checked his social media while he sipped his own wine and nibbled the fried shrimp and cucumber sandwiches that he’d grabbed from the buffet.
It wasn’t long before Doris announced that it was time for Frank and her to retire for the evening. “Goodnight, all! I guess we’ll see you at breakfast in the morning,” she added, patting Rob on the shoulder as she ambled past him.
A mosquito buzzed near his ear, and he swatted it absentmindedly. “It’s the booze,” Alexander said suddenly. “Mosquitoes are attracted to alcohol in your blood. That’s why I’m sticking with lemonade,” he added.
Rob was surprised that the man had spoken. He’d only heard him utter a handful of words since he’d arrived, and those had been sparse. “I guess I should have brought my bug spray,” Rob replied.
“Citronella is effective usually,” Alexander replied robotically. “We should suggest that our hostess put those candles out here to repel them.” He fell silent and Rob struggled to keep the conversation going. Glancing around, he could see only Marie and Kizzy left, and he didn’t want to be stuck chatting with the strange woman with her tarot cards. Kizzy seemed nice enough, but Marie gave him the creeps.
“Alexander, is it?” Mr. George nodded. “Do you mind if I ask what you do for a living?”
Alexander sniffed loudly. “I work at the post office.” He offered no further explanation or detail, so Rob simply nodded.
“What brings you down to Coopersville?” Rob could see Kizzy heading back up the hill towards the house, and Marie was making a beeline for the chair next to him.
“I needed to get away for a bit.” Alexander rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. “If you’ll excuse me, I think it’s past time I retired for the evening.”
Rob checked his phone. It was a quarter to nine. “Okay, then, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” Rob watched Alexander make his way up to the house. He tried to immerse himself in his phone, so he pulled up an ebook and pretended to read it.
“Those things are so antisocial, don’t you think?” Marie sat down beside him, dropping her heavy bag on the deck with a loud thud. “I haven’t properly introduced myself, I’m Marie Robichaud, spiritualist and psychic. Would you like to have your palm read?” She took a sip from her wine glass and smiled, displaying slightly crooked teeth with a leaf of what looked like spinach stuck between two of them.
Rob forced a smile. “Rob Reynolds, community news anchor.” He shook her hand gently, then nodded to his phone. “Just catching up on some work, you know how it is.”
Marie stared at him blankly. “Do you believe in fate, Mr. Reynolds?” She leaned in closer to him, peering into his eyes as though she was peering at a bug under a microscope.
Rob pulled back. “Uh, not really,” he replied, preparing to get out of the chair.
“Hey, I brought a bottle!”
Rob and Marie both turned their heads at the same time to see Kizzy stumbling onto t
he deck in the near-dark. She carried an open bottle of wine that she grasped with both hands. “Oops--nearly dropped it,” she giggled.
Annie followed the young woman with a flashlight. “I’m so sorry, guys. These lights should have come on, but for some reason they haven’t. I didn’t want you all sitting here in the dark.” She shone her flashlight along the railing of the deck at the back where several strands of lights were strung. A quick wave of her flashlight revealed the end of the lights and the plug, which should have been plugged into a small electrical outlet on one of the deck posts.
“Here,” Rob offered, jumping out of his seat. “Let me help.” He plugged the lights in while Annie held the flashlight, and the entire deck suddenly lit up with a gentle glow.
“That’s better,” Annie said loudly. Then, she whispered to Rob, “Keep an eye on Kizzy. That girl is going to have one heck of a hangover in the morning.” She waved to the women, then headed back up to the veranda, her flashlight cutting a darting path as she walked.
Rob abandoned his chair and headed for one of the empty tables. Marie and Kizzy both followed him. Great, he thought, but he smiled the practiced greeting of a seasoned news anchor.
“So, Rob, what’s it like being on television?” Kizzy poured herself another glass of wine and took a small sip. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be on TV.”
Rob could feel his cheeks glowing in the low light. He hated being asked about his job. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of covering community events, he just imagined that he’d be doing more hard-hitting stories four years into his career at the local news station. “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal, really, “ he replied.
“You are very modest, I can tell that about you,” Marie intoned. “Your aura is practically buzzing--it’s very powerful,” she cooed. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small pot of what looked like lip balm. She opened it up and applied it liberally to her lips, then offered the pot to Kizzy, who declined the offer.
“What’s my aura like?” Kizzy asked, the last two words running together slightly.
Marie cocked her head to one side and squinted. “It’s a little green right now, dear. I think you’d better lay off the wine a little bit.”
Kizzy hiccuped slightly, then pushed her glass away. “Oh, maybe you’re right. I don’t usually drink like this,” she apologized, “but I’ve had such a crappy week. First I lost my job at the dinner theater down in Myrtle Beach, and then my ex comes blowing back into town, looking for money from me. Talk about a mess--I must seem such a loser to you two.”
Marie didn’t answer but patted Kizzy’s arm in solidarity. “Well, you can’t win them all.” She glanced from Kizzy to Rob, then puckered her lips as though she’d tasted something bitter. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I heard Annie say something about a library. I do believe I’ll go pick something out for some bedtime reading.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but sashayed off into the thickening darkness with her heavy purse slung over her shoulder. “Boy, everyone else seems to be real early birds, don’t you think? I usually never go to bed before midnight,” admitted Kizzy.
“Yeah, I guess we’re just night owls,” grinned Rob. He glanced at his phone. “It’s not even nine-thirty,” he added, stifling a yawn.
Kizzy laughed out loud at him and he blushed again. “Well, I would be a night owl if my job didn’t have me up so stinking early every day,” he chuckled. They made small talk, discussing the house and the other guests, then fell into a companionable silence until Kizzy suggested that maybe they should go to bed.
“Alone,” she clarified.
“I wouldn’t have suggested anything else,” Rob flirted. They made their way back up to the veranda. Rob held the door for Kizzy, but the peaceful silence of the evening was interrupted by a loud dance tune. Kizzy jumped, then pulled her cell phone from her back pocket.
“Oh, crap.” She touched the screen and rejected the call.
“What’s up?” Rob still stood with the door wide open and he suddenly felt like he could sleep for days.
The phone in Kizzy’s hand sprang to life once again. “It’s my ex. I guess I need to answer this--I left him on sort of bad terms.”
Rob cocked a sleepy eyebrow. “What kind of bad?”
Kizzy gritted her pearly white teeth. “I kind of stole his car,” she confided. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, but for now, I need to talk to him, or he won’t stop calling me.” She apologized again even as she answered the call, and Rob watched as she strolled back down to the wooden deck to have some privacy. With a sigh, he stepped into the screened in room and made his way into the house and upstairs to his waiting bed.
4
More Permanent Quarters
Annie felt bad about leaving her guests in the dark out by the pond, but fortunately, she’d discovered her lighting problem before anyone fell and injured themselves. She’d only noticed the problem while clearing up the last of the dishes from the veranda, and once she’d rectified the situation, and made sure that Kizzy didn’t break her neck trying to liberate the last bottle of wine, she sent her mother off to bed and joined Devon and Rory on the front porch.
“All good out there?” Rory asked, grinning as he took one of Devon’s chess pieces from the giant board they were playing on.
“All good,” she replied, dropping into an oversized rocking chair with a sigh. She was pleased that none of her guests had decided to hang out here on the front porch. At least for now it still felt like a refuge for her and her family. She watched as her son struggled to choose a move that wouldn’t put his queen in check.
“You are not beating me again, old man,” Devon cried, moving his knight with a flourish to put Rory’s own queen in jeopardy. “So, Mom, I hear we’re going to be famous,” Devon said, pushing himself back from the table. Annie gave him a puzzled look. “You know, that news guy? I bet we get tons of business after he puts that video on the air.”
Annie shrugged her shoulders. “I guess we’ll see,” she replied. “I’m not too worried about it, though. The internet ad seems to be working really well. Now I just need to make sure my guests don’t break a leg and sue me before the business really takes off.” She explained about the lights and how she’d had to play superhero by going down to the deck and plugging them back in.
Rory, listened, then shook Devon’s hand, ending the game in a gentlemanly spirit. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his neck. “I’ll try and rig up something a little more permanent for the deck,” he said thoughtfully. “Though, to be fair, I don’t see how those lights came unplugged. Once you plug them in, they’re pretty secure.”
Devon cleared his throat. “Uh, well, that might be my fault,” he replied sheepishly. “I sort of charged my phone down on the deck while I was helping Rory paint the chairs. I guess I forgot to plug the lights back in.”
“Well, there you go,” offered Rory. “No harm done, and I’m sure Devon will remember to plug them in next time.”
Annie felt a little better about the whole situation, but there was another problem that gnawed at her. “One of the guests didn’t turn up,” she said suddenly. “Mr. Ross. I tried to call him a couple of times but it went straight to his voicemail.”
“Maybe he just got delayed, stuck in traffic or something,” Devon suggested. “Mom, seriously, you worry way too much.”
Rory nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t worry. Give it until tomorrow, then if he doesn’t show up, you can try again. Did he book for more than a few days?”
“He booked an entire week. I took down his credit card information but he said he’d prefer to pay cash. He sounded like a nice enough guy when I spoke to him on the telephone,” she added. “There was this one weird thing, though. He asked if he could have a package delivered here. He said it was a gift for his mother in Mobile and since he wouldn’t be home to accept it, he asked if he could have it sent here.”
Rory thoug
ht about this for a moment. “You’re right, that is weird. Devon’s probably right, though. He probably just got held up somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns up in the middle of the night, banging on the door, crying about car trouble or something like that.”
“Maybe you’re right. Besides, it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it. If he doesn’t show up I’ve still got his deposit. And if a package arrives, well, I guess I’ll deal with that if it actually happens.”
“See, problem solved,” replied Rory.
“I guess I’m just a little stressed having all these people here at once,” Annie confessed. “I know I’ll get used to it, but right now I’m just thinking of all the things that could go wrong.”
“Mom, you’ve got this. We’ve got this,” he added. “It’s going to be totally cool, as long as that crazy fortune-teller lady doesn’t try to read my palm,” he added. “She seems like a real nutcase.”
Annie grinned. “Well, I did promise that you’d meet some unusual characters living in a country inn. Just think--you’ll be able to write an essay all about it when you head back to school in a few weeks.”
Devon groaned. “Way to ruin my good mood, Mother. On that note, I think I’ll go upstairs to my private room and watch some Netflix.” He stood, stretched, and stooped to give his mother a peck on the cheek before he headed into the house, pausing long enough to say goodnight to his mother and Rory.
“He’s a good kid, Annie.” Rory began packing the chess pieces away in their storage box. “He’s going to be fine. The high school is probably a lot smaller than he’s used to, but it’s bigger than this place,” he grinned. “And at least the people there are his age. I would have gone crazy spending so much time with my parents when I was his age.”
Corpses & Conmen (Rosewood Place Mysteries Book 2) Page 3