by Tim Myers
“You don’t intimidate me, you big bear. I’m not going anywhere until we talk this out.”
Alex watched him from over Emma’s shoulder and saw Mor’s shoulders stiffen, then finally relax.
Mor said, “Of all the dumb, backward, half-cocked ideas I’ve ever heard in my life, your bone-headed stunt took the cake.”
Emma said bravely, “Everybody has to be good at something.”
Mor laughed gently. “You’re a hard woman to stay mad at, you know that, don’t you?”
Emma hugged him, her tears obvious in her voice. “Mor, don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
Alex backed away to give them some privacy and nearly stepped on Elise’s foot. He had been so wrapped up in the reconciliation that he hadn’t even noticed her approach.
She was smiling as a few tears tracked down her cheeks. “Now why are you crying?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Alex, sometimes you can be such a man.”
“Thanks. I think,” he added, still unsure whether it was a compliment or not.
Elise said, “Let’s give them some privacy to finish patching things up.”
“Okay by me, I didn’t want to be their mediator in the first place.”
She touched his shoulder lightly. “I don’t know why, you’re very good at it.”
He grinned. “Okay then, I’m going to retire undefeated, one for one.” He took a deep breath, then added, “Unless there’s a chance you want to give me a shot at being two for two.”
“How can I do that?” she asked.
“Well, there’s another couple around here I’d really like to see get together,” he said as earnestly as he could manage.
She just shook her head, but he could see a slight smile come to her lips before she turned away. At least he hadn’t lost the knack for making her smile. It was something, anyway.
They worked at cleaning the lobby together, sweeping and dusting well after the last traces of lint were gone, waiting to see if their plan had worked. Twenty minutes later, Mor and Emma came out into the lobby holding hands.
Mor said, “If you two are still willing, the wedding’s back on. Not only that, but we’re moving it up.”
Alex slapped him on the back. “Congratulations.”
Elise hugged Emma and said, “I’m so happy for you both.”
As the two women went into a whispered conversation regarding the on-again wedding plans, Mor said, “Wrong fuse, huh? You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”
“Hey, it was dark in there. Anybody can make a mistake.”
Mor put one arm around Alex’s shoulders and said, “Yeah, and you kept me from making a big one. Thanks.”
“No problem. So I guess we’re going to have that non-bachelor party after all.”
“Looks like it,” he said with a grin.
And at least one couple that belonged together was back on track.
Alex wished he’d been as successful with Elise, but seeing his best friend happy was enough.
It had to be; it looked like that was all Alex was going to get.
“This is it,” Shantara told Alex as they loaded the last of his supplies into Alex’s truck. “I’ll let you know when those bulk soaps get in.” Shantara gave Alex a huge price break on the disposables he needed to run the inn, with just a few conditions attached. Alex had to pick up the goods himself, something that was no hardship, since he usually welcomed an excuse to visit her at her general store. The only other condition was one night’s stay a year at the inn in the Main Keeper’s Suite, the one Mrs. Nesbitt was occupying now. Shantara usually picked a time when the inn was slow and she could afford a day and night away from the store. She’d picked January 28 for that year, a time when Alex had to fight to keep the budget above water.
Alex said, “Just give me a call and I’ll pick the rest of my things up. How’s Tracy holding up?”
Shantara frowned. “There are a thousand rumors flooding around the kudzu vine. Some folks are claiming she bumped Oxford off herself. I even heard somebody say they saw her around Mor’s truck the day that stranger died. You want to know something, Alex? I think Conner’s spreading them himself.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Alex said, “but I wouldn’t worry about it too much either. Folks around here are too smart to fall for it.”
Shantara raised one eyebrow at him. “Just like they were too smart to believe Finster’s rumor about your lighthouse becoming an amusement park?”
A local Realtor, in an effort to get Alex to sell out, had started that rumor, along with a dozen others, and Alex well remembered how much grief the stories had caused him. “You’ve got a point, but I don’t know what anybody can do about it.”
“Tracy’s offering to take a polygraph test, but the sheriff won’t do it. He says he’s got too much on his hands as it is, and he won’t give in to the grandstanding.”
Alex said, “He’s got a point. Do me a favor, though. Don’t start any rumors of your own, okay?”
She patted his cheek. “Alex, you’re such a sweet man. Do us all a favor. Don’t ever go into politics, okay? The sharks would eat you alive.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m happy enough being an innkeeper.”
As Alex stowed the last box on the back of his truck, he saw Grady Hatch across the street coming out of Buck’s Grill.
“I need to talk to the mayor for a second, Shantara. Thanks again.”
She smiled. “Glad to be of service, Alex. You don’t have to restrict your visits to pickup days, you know that, don’t you?”
“It’s usually the only time Elise will let me out of the inn,” Alex said with a laugh.
“How’s that going?” she asked gently. “I heard about your big date.”
“You and the rest of Elkton Falls. It didn’t work out, that’s all I’ve got to say about it.” Before Shantara could ask for more details, Alex added, “I really do need to talk to Grady.”
“You men, any excuse not to confide in someone else.”
“Yeah, you’re absolutely right, Shantara,” he said as he rolled his eyes.
She was still laughing as Alex crossed the street.
He called out, “Mayor, do you have a second?”
Grady Hatch appeared to be deep in thought. It took two more hails from Alex before he realized he was being paged.
“Sorry about that, Alex, I was thinking about something else. Looks like Hurricane Zelda’s coming ashore somewhere off the Outer Banks. I’ve got several friends out there, you know.” The mayor usually spent his vacations on the coastal islands, claiming it was hard to believe he could drive eight hours and still be in North Carolina.
“I’m kind of partial to a particular landmark out there myself,” Alex said with a smile.
“That’s right, the other Hatteras Lighthouse is out that way. There’s something else occupying my thoughts, though,” the mayor said.
“Is the open road calling your name?” Alex asked lightly.
“Yep, that must be it. What can I do for you, Alex?”
Alex wasn’t certain he wanted to talk about his concerns on Main Street. “Do you have a minute? You could walk me back to my truck.”
Grady glanced at his watch, then said, “I’ve got just that. Is it important?”
Alex nodded, but held his tongue until they were back at his pickup. Somehow it seemed easier for men to talk with their feet on the back bumper of a pickup truck, their gaze locked ahead and not on each other.
Alex said, “I need to talk to you about Conner Shook.”
The mayor said, “I’m keeping out of this election, Alex. I made a promise, and I’m sticking to it.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I heard you had a pretty lively conversation with Conner the other day out my way.”
The mayor’s breath sharpened. “What did you hear?”
“Relax, Grady. I just hope you didn’t agree to anything, since it sounded like Conner was
pressuring you pretty hard.”
Grady pulled his foot off the bumper and said, “You know what, Alex? That’s one of the things I’m not going to miss about Elkton Falls. The compulsion this town has for knowing everybody else’s business just isn’t healthy.”
“It’s a part of living in a small town, you should know that better than anybody else. So is that what happened? Was Conner pushing you for an endorsement?”
The mayor nodded slowly. “I turned him down, just like I did the first dozen times he asked me. But the man’s persistent, I’ve got to give him that.”
“Don’t give in, Grady. You don’t want to be painted with the same brush as Conner just as you’re leaving us.
Stay out of the election, just like you promised you would.”
Grady looked sharply at him. “Is that a threat, Alex?”
He was honestly startled by the accusation. “Of course not. I just think we should all keep out of it and let the voters decide.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” Grady said.
Alex admitted, “I haven’t made it a secret that I’m backing Tracy, but then again, I don’t have any pull around here.”
Grady said, “Don’t sell yourself short. Either one of them would be nervous if you ever decided to run against them.”
Alex tried to laugh it off. “I’ve got something to run as it is, and Hatteras West takes every minute I’ve got.”
Grady’s expression softened. “Listen, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just wish it were all over so I could start my retirement.”
Alex said, “It won’t be long now. The election’s just around the corner.”
“It can’t get here fast enough for me, Alex.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m really running behind, I need to scat.”
“Stand firm, Grady,” Alex said as the mayor rushed off.
Grady Hatch stuck one thumb up in the air as he hurried away. Alex considered telling Shantara what Conner was up to, but truly, there was nothing any of them could do about it if Grady caved in at the last minute and gave Conner his endorsement. The only purpose it would serve would be to put Tracy under even more stress than she already was.
No, that was one item of gossip he was going to keep to himself.
Alex was pulling out when Shantara flagged him down.
He put the truck in park and rolled down his window. “What’s up, did that soap come in while I was gone?”
She waved a sheet of paper at him, folded neatly in half. “Not hardly. This fax just came in for a couple staying out at the inn, the Joneses. I was told to keep it here for them to pick up, but since you’re heading back out that way, it will save them a trip.” Shantara’s General Store was so much more than just a mercantile. She had a post office in one corner, sold crafts in another, and had just opened a copy center/office services feature in a back storeroom that had long ago held cattle and pig feed.
“I’ll be glad to take it to them,” he said as he took the sheet and put it on the pile of junk that rested between the two passenger spots on the bench seat.
Just his luck, Alex got stuck behind a tractor going ten miles an hour on his way back to the inn. The farm equipment wasn’t strictly street legal, but nobody ever complained. Small-town farmers around Elkton Falls were in enough trouble as it was without being hassled by the law or its citizenry. Alex did his best to buy his produce from them whenever he could. He recognized Hank Wilkins, one of Irene’s nephews, driving the tractor in front of him. The criminologist/cosmetologist had more family than Adam around Elkton Falls, and she made no secret of the fact that Hank was one of her favorites.
Alex waved to the beefy man, who was lost in his own thoughts as he chugged slowly up the road.
He wasn’t prying, and spying had never been his intent, but Alex found his gaze wandering to the fax the Joneses had received, more out of boredom and curiosity than anything else.
A breeze blew into the truck, and the folded paper blew open. Alex only got a quick glance at the printing inside, but it was enough.
He nearly wrecked when he saw the letterhead printed across the top.
It was from The Tattle Tale, the tabloid he’d seen marked up in their “honeymoon” suite, and from the look of things, it could only mean one thing: trouble.
The rest of the drive back, he kept fighting himself whether to read the entire fax or not. After all, it was private, just like someone’s mail, and he’d never peeked at any of his guests’ mail since he’d become an innkeeper.
But was it, really? A fax was more open, more public. So why would they be getting a letter from a sensational tabloid magazine?
He was still mulling over what to do by the time he got to the inn.
Elise heard him drive up and met him at the back door near their storeroom. She smiled gently. “That didn’t take long. Usually you stretch your trips into town a lot longer than that.”
He said, “I didn’t want to leave you stranded too long without backup. Elise, I need some advice.”
Certainly she was a pretty woman, but there was a lot more to Elise than looks. Alex respected her opinion and her judgment, had in fact deferred to her on more than a few occasions.
“I’ll do what I can.”
Alex tapped the paper in his hand. “This came for the Joneses, our newlyweds. It’s a fax from Shantara’s store.”
“What about it?” she asked, looking at the paper as she spoke.
How could he phrase this without making himself look bad? Taking a deep breath, Alex said, “As I was driving back to the inn, the page flew open, and purely by accident, I saw the letterhead. It’s something I’m having a hard time figuring.”
“You didn’t read it, did you, Alex?”
“Come on, give me some credit.”
She looked at him intently, waiting for him to go on.
He said, “Hey, I’m not saying I wasn’t tempted to scan it, but I didn’t. The only problem is, there might be trouble. The letterhead said—”
Elise held up a hand. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Alex, our guests have a right to their privacy. I shouldn’t have to lecture you about that, not after we both lost our master keys.”
“This is completely different,” Alex said.
“How do you see that?”
“Elise, if they wanted it to be that private, they wouldn’t have sent it as a fax.” The couple had grumbled about the lack of private phone plug-ins for their computers after they’d checked in. but that was a service Alex didn’t offer. Rewiring the inn, with its ancient walls of lath and plaster, just wasn’t in his budget, nor would he do it even if he owned his own emerald mine. He liked running an old-fashioned inn. In his mind, Hatteras West was a place to get away from all that
Alex added, “I’m sure Shantara didn’t think twice about it, but something in here could adversely affect the inn.”
Elise thought about it a moment, then held out her hand. “I suppose there’s only one way to know for sure. Let me see it.”
Chapter 16
Alex held the paper away from her. “I don’t want you to compromise your principles on my account.”
She said, “No you don’t. You dragged me into this, and now I don’t see any way around it.”
He nodded, started to hand it to her, then thought better of it and opened the paper himself. Elise was startled by the letterhead from The Tattle Tale as she read over his shoulder, but both of them nearly yelped when they saw the body of the message. It said:
“Okay, if you can’t get a picture of the room, fake something. We need “The Murder Inn” story by Friday, and I want art to go with it. Here’s my authorization; bribe the maid if you can’t steal the key again, but I want a picture of that room to go along with the story, or don’t bother coming back.”
It was signed, “Jasper Hayes, Editor-in-Chief, The Tattle Tale.”
“So that’s what happened to our keys,” Elise said, fuming. “I want them gone, Alex. We don’t need thei
r money that badly.”
A sudden idea struck him. “If they go now, they’ll just write the story anyway. Maybe there’s a way to kill it altogether.”
“How are we going to do that?” she asked.
“I’ve got an idea, but I’m going to need help from you.”
She smiled grimly. “Count me in.”
And suddenly, the two of them were joined in a conspiracy of their own.
Alex’s alarm screamed at 2:00 a.m. He reached groggily for the snooze button, then remembered why he’d set it for such a miserable hour.
It was time to put all their hard work into play. Dressing quickly in black sweatpants and a navy blue sweatshirt, Alex pulled a ski mask over his face and headed out into the lobby.
Elise was waiting for him by the front desk.
“You look like you’re going to rob a bank,” she said with a smile.
Alex pulled off the mask and asked, “Are you ready?”
Elise said, “I don’t know about this, Alex. I’m having second thoughts. It feels so juvenile.”
“Come on, they deserve it If you don’t want to be a part of it, I understand, but I’m going through with my end of it.”
Elise said, “Then I’m not going to let you have all the fun.”
Alex looked at his watch. “Okay, give me five minutes to get set up, then start the tape.”
She said, “I’m glad you got these walkie-talkies from Mor. I can’t wait to hear what they say.”
Mor had loaned Alex three walkie-talkies he’d repaired for a trio of brothers who used them during hunting season. Earlier that day, Alex had slipped one into the newlyweds’ room behind the dresser. It would let them eavesdrop on the effects of their work.
Alex said, “Here goes nothing.”
He went up to the second floor and used the attic scuttle in the maid’s closet to get into the attic. Alex had traded in his normal high-powered flashlight for one of considerably less intensity. It was enough light to let him see by, but not enough to broadcast his presence to the world in case someone happened to glance up at the single window in the attic space.
Grabbing a bamboo pole he used to knock hornets’ nests down in the autumn, Alex climbed out onto the roof until he was even with the reporters’ suite. Leaning outward near the gutter, Alex was ready to begin.