Murder Checks Inn (Book 3 in the Lighthouse Inn Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

  Murder Checks Inn

  By Tim Myers

  Book 3 in the Lighthouse Inn mysteries

  Praise for the Lighthouse Mystery series by Tim Myers

  “Entertaining ... authentic ... fun ... a wonderful regional mystery that will have readers rebooking for future stays at the Hatteras West Inn and Lighthouse.”

  —BookBrowser

  “Myers cultivates the North Carolina scenery with aplomb and shows a flair for character.”

  —Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel

  “Tim Myers proves that he is no one-book wonder... A shrewdly crafted puzzle.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Colorful... picturesque ... light and entertaining.”

  —The Best Reviews

  Praise for the Candlemaking Mystery series by Tim Myers

  “Excellent storytelling that makes for a good reading experience…(Myers) is a talented writer who deserves to hit the bestseller lists.”

  ---The Best Reviews

  “A sure winner.”

  ---Carolyn Hart, author of the Death on Demand series

  “An interesting mystery, a large cast of characters, and an engaging amateur sleuth make this series a winner.”

  ---The Romance Reader’s Connection (four daggers)

  The Lighthouse Inn Mysteries by Tim Myers

  Innkeeping With Murder

  Reservations For Murder

  Murder Checks Inn

  Room For Murder

  Booked For Murder

  The Candlemaking Mysteries by Tim Myers

  At Wick’s End

  Snuffed Out

  Death Waxed Over

  A Flicker Of Doubt

  The Soapmaking Mysteries by Tim Myers

  Dead Men Don’t Lye

  A Pour Way To Dye

  A Mold For Murder

  The Cardmaking Mysteries by Tim Myers written as Elizabeth Bright

  Invitation To Murder

  Deadly Greetings

  Murder And Salutations

  Murder Checks Inn

  by Tim Myers.

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2003 Tim Myers

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either 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 locales is entirely coincidental.

  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. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either 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 locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For my mother, Ruby Hall, and my father, Bob Myers.

  For my daughter, Emily, who believes with all her heart that she’s the real reason I became a writer (and in a way, it’s true, Emma).

  And, most of all, for my wife, Patty, who never lost the faith, even when she had every reason in the world to.

  This one’s for you all.

  Chapter 1

  “I still don’t know why we had to come all the way out to the middle of nowhere to read Father’s will,” Ashley Trask-Cooper said impatiently, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from her pantsuit with abbreviated flicks of her hand as she spoke. It was readily apparent that Ashley wasn’t used to waiting for anyone. She had asked her mother and brother the same question a dozen times since they’d recently arrived. It was obvious the Hatteras West Inn was the last place in the world Ashley wanted to be.

  Alex Winston looked up from his position behind the check-in desk at the people who had been fidgeting in the lobby of Hatteras West for the last forty minutes. Though they hadn’t introduced themselves upon their arrival, it hadn’t been all that difficult for Alex to match names with faces.

  When no one deigned to answer, Ashley continued, speaking loud enough for everyone in Elkton Falls to hear. “Only Father would book us into a lighthouse motel in the North Carolina mountains!”

  As the owner and innkeeper of the “lighthouse motel,”

  Alex had to fight to hide his smile. He knew how unusual most people found it to see a lighthouse in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, but to him, the original structure on the North Carolina Outer Banks was the one that looked oddly out of place without the lush green hardwood forest and the mountain’s foothills surrounding it.

  Cynthia Shays-Trask, the matriarch of the clan, was a slim older woman stylishly dressed in a designer outfit and sporting a graying closely cropped haircut. She said curtly, “Ashley, we are here because your father demanded it. That obese nightmare of a man has found a way to continue to spoil my life even beyond the grave.”

  Steven Trask, a young man in his mid-twenties with neatly trimmed hair and a runner’s physique said, “Mother, I won’t have you speak of him that way, do you understand? It’s time to put the past behind us.” Unlike his sister and her outfit, Steven looked at home in a nicely tailored suit.

  “Oh please, Steven,” Ashley said. “It didn’t do you the slightest bit of good being his favorite while he was alive, and it matters even less now. He can’t hear you.” All three shared the same hooked nose and prominent chin; the family resemblance was undeniable. Alex would have known they were related even without having the reservation book open in front of him. Though they were booked at the inn for the entire week, the group had refused to check in until Jase Winston, Alex’s uncle and an attorney in town, arrived on the scene.

  Jase had just recently moved back to Elkton Falls after retiring from a big law firm in Charlotte, and Alex had been glad for the chance to get reacquainted with his father’s brother. Since Alex and his brother Tony had lost their parents, Jase had done his best to serve in their stead. Alex was glad his uncle had grown bored with retirement and had hung out his shingle in town. The man was coming alive again with cases to keep him occupied. He’d confided to Alex that the two of them were a lot alike; they both dealt with the public and tried their best to serve them. Alex wondered if that was what his uncle had in mind when he’d gotten himself involved with this family.

  Ashley rubbed her hand hesitantly across the top of an ornately carved black urn sitting on the table between them. “This is just like Father, popping up like this. It smacks of his annual Christmas postcards to the family. The only way he comes back to us from South America is in a jar full of ashes. He had some kind of nerve, leaving us all behind and sending a card once a year just to gloat about his new life.”

  Steven’s face turned red as he snapped, “He just wanted us to know he was okay!” It was obvious his sister knew just what buttons to push to get a reaction from him.

  Cynthia said sadly, “Steven, you always were such an innocent.”

  Ashley said, “He’s not all that innocent. I could tell you stories about your precious li
ttle boy that would curl your toes, Mother.”

  Alex could tell that Steven was trying his best to ignore his sister’s jab. “Can’t we all just get along until Jase Winston gets here and reads the will?”

  Ashley said, “Don’t hold your breath hoping for family harmony, Steven. I for one refuse to honor a man who deserted me.” Ashley frowned, then added, “I still don’t understand why Donald and the children couldn’t come with us this week. They’re my family; they have every right to be here, too.”

  Cynthia said, “We’ve been over this a hundred times. The instructions stated clearly that no spouses or children were to attend. Your father wanted this to be just the three of us.”

  Alex had dusted the same spot on the front desk for the seventh time when Elise Danton came up behind him.

  “Alex, I need you outside.”

  Elise served as the head of housekeeping at Hatteras West. It was a glorified title, since there were just the two of them on staff, but Alex knew he couldn’t run Hatteras West without her. He’d discovered that quickly enough when Elise’s father had suffered a major heart attack, and Elise had been called back to his side. He hoped her parents enjoyed good health for a long, long time. Alex was not at all certain he could go through running the inn by himself again.

  “Is it important?” he asked. Alex would never have admitted to her that he’d been eavesdropping, but he couldn’t | help himself. It was one of the fascinations of running the inn, meeting such a vast variety of people.

  “I don’t think it can wait,” Elise said as she motioned him to the rear of the building.

  When they got to the back hallway, Alex said, “Elise, you aren’t going to believe our newest guests. I was under the impression that this was just going to be a normal family reunion when Jase booked their rooms, but they’re here for the reading of their father’s will. And from the sound of it, nobody but the man’s son is all that upset he’s gone.”

  Elise said, “Alex, I honestly don’t care if they’re here to hold a séance to bring him back; they’re paying guests, and we need all of those we can get right now.”

  Alex knew too well how true that was. They’d nearly finished rebuilding the Main Keeper’s Quarters a few months before when they’d run out of the money raised from the sale of emeralds found on the property. Unfortunately, Emma Sturbridge, their staff gem hunter, still hadn’t been able to locate the source of the main vein of stones, if in fact one even existed. The original discoverer had taken that secret with her to the grave. Because of that, Hatteras West, so named because of the exact replica of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse built beside the two keepers’ quarters that served as the inn, was heading dangerously close to being in the red again.

  Alex asked, “What’s so important?”

  “It’s Vernum. I can’t get the man to hold still long enough for me to have one word of conversation with him. You’re the only one he’ll talk to.”

  “Is there a problem with him?” Alex asked. Vernum, an older, rail-thin man with a heavy, flowing shock of white hair and a beard that bushed all around his face, had shown up at Hatteras West the week before, offering to do yard work and landscaping in exchange for one meal a day and a place to sleep. Alex had seen Vernum around Elkton Falls for the past few months, one day sweeping the parking lot at Buck’s Grill and the next unloading trucks at Shantara’s General Store. Sheriff Armstrong had talked to Vernum extensively upon showing up in Elkton Falls and had pronounced him harmless.

  Alex had turned down the offer of landscaping, though he gave the stranger a good meal before he left. Instead of leaving, though, Vernum grabbed a pruning saw from the storage shed near the lighthouse and transformed some gnarled old oak trees Alex had been meaning to convert into firewood into beautifully sculpted showpieces.

  Alex was convinced, and Vernum moved into the shed after refusing to sleep in any of the inn’s empty rooms.

  “There’s no problem with Vernum,” Elise explained. “I just hate the thought of him sleeping on a cot out in the shed.”

  “It’s his choice, Elise. He seems happy out there. I can’t make him come inside.”

  “Would you at least talk to him about it again? He listens to you.”

  “I will if I can find him,” Alex said. He knew there was no point arguing with her. Once Elise made up her mind about something, it was nearly impossible to get her to change it. He had to admit she’d come up with many improvements since she’d arrived at the inn, none more popular than the continental breakfasts they now served every morning.

  As Alex walked the grounds, he marveled at the work Vernum had done in the short time he’d been at Hatteras West. The unofficial arborist had thinned and pruned the stand of oak and hickory trees that had grown up around the lighthouse’s base, transforming the area into a park-like setting, revealing rather than obscuring the stone and brick foundation. Even the copse of trees between the lighthouse and Bear Rocks had never looked so good.

  Alex finally found Vernum thinning the plantings around the inn’s main building.

  “Got a second?” Alex asked.

  Vernum looked startled as he realized Alex was standing so close by. The man never failed to remind Alex of a spooked horse, afraid to stay in one place too long, especially if anyone else was around.

  “What can I do for you?” the man grumbled as he started to move away.

  “Elise is worried about you sleeping out in the shed. Are you sure you don’t want to move into the inn while you’re working here? We’ve got plenty of room right now.”

  Vernum called out over his shoulder, “I’m fine where I am, thanks,” as he disappeared into the copse of trees that led to Bear Rocks.

  Alex didn’t have time to chase him down. He had an inn to run. Peering inside through the glass, he could see the Trask family still gathered around the patriarch’s urn. It was time to finish dusting that desk.

  Hopefully, he hadn’t missed much.

  “Where is that man? Honestly, he shouldn’t be wasting our time like this,” Cynthia said as she looked at her watch for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.

  Steven asked, “Is there somewhere you need to be, Mother? I thought we were all going to be staying the entire week.”

  “We are. That was your father’s last request, and goodness knows, he’ll probably come back and haunt anyone who tries to leave early. It’s hard to imagine this dreadful town was his boyhood home. He never showed any interest in coming back while he was alive, so why in the world did he feel the need to drag us all here against our wills? I just wish we could get this part of the ordeal over with.”

  Ashley said, “Do you think it’s possible he actually left us something valuable? The attorney hinted as much when I spoke with him on the telephone last week. Maybe he still has his stamp collection. That was worth a fortune twenty years ago.”

  Steven said, “I’m not so sure any of us deserve his money or anything else. He was gone a long time. Father carved out a new life for himself.”

  Cynthia said, “Donate your share to the poor if it eases your conscience, Steven. I for one earned every dime coming to me.”

  “We all did,” Ashley said.

  Steven stood abruptly. “It’s getting a little stale in here. I need some fresh air.”

  Ashley snapped, “You’ll just have to get it later, little Brother. Nobody’s going anywhere until this lawyer shows up.”

  Alex watched openly as Steven and Ashley locked glares. The older sister ultimately won as Steven reluctantly slipped back into his seat.

  Alex was so caught up in the exchange between the brother and sister that he was startled when Sheriff Armstrong walked into the inn. Normally, Alex knew it whenever a car approached on the gravel entrance outside. As the sheriff headed straight for Alex, the innkeeper had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was there to deliver bad news. Armstrong didn’t come to Hatteras West on many social calls; something had to have happened to dynamite him off hi
s barstool at Buck’s Grill.

  “Afternoon, Sheriff,” Alex said, trying to act more casual than he felt.

  “Alex, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.” “What is it?” Alex asked as a wave of dread swept over him.

  “It’s your uncle. I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  Chapter 2

  “Dead,” Alex said softly. “Was it his heart?” His uncle Jase was getting on in years, but a part of Alex had believed the older man would live forever; he was so robust and full of life.

  The sheriff shook his head and lowered his voice. “I wish I could tell you it was from natural causes, Alex, but it was nothing that tidy. Somebody killed Jase in his office.”

  “What?” Alex shouted. He knew he was causing a scene as everyone in the lobby stared at him, but he didn’t care. Who would want to kill his sweet old uncle?

  Elise was beside him in a heartbeat, touching his shoulder lightly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Somebody killed Jase,” Alex said blindly. The words felt like ashes in his mouth. He turned to the sheriff and asked, “What happened?”

  Armstrong looked as if he’d just swallowed a bug. “You know that miniature lighthouse he kept on his desk?”

  “The brass one? Of course I do, I gave it to him for Christmas last year.”

  Armstrong said, “Well, somebody cracked him on the back of the skull with it. Irene said there were no prints, it was wiped down pretty good, but the points of impact match perfectly.”

  “So my lighthouse killed him,” Alex said in disbelief.

  “It could have been anything, Alex. The killer struck at the last minute and happened to grab that paperweight you bought him.”