"Miss Matilda! It's Buggy!" She cried out with her hand over her heart. "He's dead!"
Pandemonium erupted in the room. Several women screamed in shock!
Jack raised both hands. "Everyone, please remain in your seats. There’s no cause for panic! Sheriff Dudley is here. He'll handle the matter. Everyone, please remain seated so the sheriff can investigate the incident."
Matilda turned from the podium.
"Where are you going?" Jack asked.
"I'm going to see what happened. This is my inn, and it's Buggy!" she replied as she hurried to catch up with Sheriff Dudley who had stopped in the lobby where Trixie was crying and shaking her head.
"What happened Trixie?" Sheriff Dudley asked as Matilda approached the two.
"I don't know. I found Buggy lying face down in the solarium. I touched his neck. He felt cold."
"Stop with the waterworks Trixie," Matilda said. "Crying is for later. Take us to him."
"Ah, Miss Matilda. You wait here while I see what happened," Sheriff Dudley said as he took hold of Trixie's arm. "Show me where you found him."
Matilda ignored the Sheriff's request.
Hearing the tapping of her walking stick on the tiles, Sheriff Dudley looked over his shoulder.
"Don't waste your breath, Sheriff. I'm coming along, like it or not," Matilda said in a voice she used to use on her students during skiing lessons.
"Just don't contaminate the crime scene," Sheriff Dudley snapped.
Matilda rolled her eyes but didn't reply as she followed behind the Sheriff and Trixie.
"There! Over in the corner behind the palmetto palm," Trixie said as she pointed across the room. She shook her head. "I’m not going any closer."
"Good, the fewer people traipsing around the crime scene the better," Sheriff Dudley said.
Matilda shook her head. "Dudley, don't even think about kicking me out. This is my inn!"
"God, woman! Okay, just don't touch anything," Sheriff Dudley exclaimed.
"And you shouldn't either since you aren't wearing gloves," Matilda replied walking a couple of steps behind the sheriff as he approached the corner of the solarium.
Matilda took a deep breath when she spotted two shoes jutting out from behind the Palmetto palm.
Dear Buggy! She thought, as a memory of watching him ski down Taft when he was only ten and realizing that he had amazing talent flashed through her mind. Matilda rounded the palm to find Sheriff Dudley kneeling beside Buggy.
"I don't feel a pulse in his neck. And he's stone cold," Sheriff Dudley announced as he looked up at Matilda.
Matilda walked up and reached out with her walking stick and pushed it against Buggy's arm.
"What in blazes are you doing? You’ve contaminated the crime scene for sure," Sheriff Dudley said.
"Save that tone of voice for Trudy when you two get married," Matilda said. "I'm trying to determine the time of death. Buggy hasn’t been dead long."
"You know that by poking him with your walking stick?" Sheriff Dudley asked
"The body is still relaxed and not stiff. He's probably been dead less than a couple of hours," Matilda said.
"So now you’re a forensic pathologist?" Sheriff Dudley asked sharply. "Please, Miss Matilda stop whatever you think you’re doing and leave the investigation to me."
"The back of his head is bloody, but there’s not much blood on the floor," Matilda said as she ignored Sheriff Dudley. She pointed her walking stick at fragments of a broken ceramic flower pot and the potting soil on the floor near her feet. "Someone hit him from behind with the flower pot. I bet Buggy didn't even see his assailant."
“Where is that idiot you use to do your books? Maybe he killed Buggy.”
“Do not say another word about Bozo!” Matilda said angrily. “He’s in bed and his door has an alarm on it that beeps in the office and in Trixie’s room if he leaves. So, it wasn’t him! And never call him an idiot again!”
"Miss Matilda! If you do not leave the room immediately, I am going to arrest you for impeding a murder investigation," Sheriff Dudley said, with a beet-red face.
"Yes, well I’ll leave the investigation in your capable hands, Sheriff," Matilda said as she turned. She paused. “Sheriff, you will have the decency to call his parents in Nashua as I’m not on speaking terms with them.”
"Really," Sheriff Dudley said in surprise as he took out his cell phone. “I thought you were almost part of the family.”
“Not since they practically abandoned Buggy once they saw he wasn’t going to the Winter Olympics. They wouldn’t even pay his hospital bills. Charley Lovett, bless his soul, stepped up and shelled out the money.”
“Yeah, I know the story," Sheriff Dudley said before he turned his attention to his cell phone. “Roy, call the state police. We have a murder scene here in Sugar Hill at the Franklin Inn. Buggy Slater"
Matilda didn't pause to listen to the rest of the conversation. She glanced at Trixie who stood at the door to the solarium.
"Did he fall or something?" Trixie asked.
"No, child, he was murdered," Matilda answered as she tapped her walking stick against the floor."
"Murdered! Oh my God! How dreadful. Who would kill Buggy? He was as harmless as a flea. Ah, I mean he wouldn't hurt a flea."
"I would," Matilda said.
"Would what, Miss Matilda?" Smiley said as he approached them.
"Hurt a flea," Matilda said as she glanced sharply at the Franklin Inn's resident hippy. "I would kill the bloodsucker. I hate fleas and ticks."
"Smiley, someone killed Buggy," Trixie said.
"Really? Murder here at the inn?" he asked looking at Matilda.
"Yes, someone hit him on the back of the head with a flower pot. And from the lack of blood, I would say he died quickly," Matilda said.
"But who would kill Buggy. He wouldn't harm . . ."
"Yeah, we just went through the harm a flea bit," Trixie interrupted Smiley to say.
"I don't know who would kill the boy, but I’m determined to find the culprit," Matilda said and tapped her walking stick hard against the floor. "Nobody murders a friend of mine in my inn and gets away with it."
"Ah, Miss Matilda. I think we should leave the investigation to the Sheriff… Yeah, I see what you mean. I think Sheriff Dudley is better at sniffing out the location of a sugar cookie than a murderer," Smiley said.
"Miss Matilda, do you think trying to find the killer is a good idea. I mean, Sheriff Dudley has training …"
"Oh, Trixie, I bet I've read more Sherlock Holmes than he has," Matilda declared.
"Ah, I was referring to more formal training, Miss Matilda."
"And the good sheriff probably doesn't remember a word the instructors told him at the police academy," Matilda said as the three of them entered the lobby.
"Miss Matilda," someone called.
Matilda took a deep breath as she spotted Carl Lovett’s girlfriend, Ann Bixby entering the lobby.
"Is it true that someone killed Buggy?" Ann asked solemnly.
"Wow, word spread fast." Smiley said.
"I heard it on the police scanner in my car. I just arrived. Had to help the night nurse change the bedding for Carl's uncle."
“What, is wearing one earring a new style?” Matilda asked and nodded at the red-haired woman.”
The woman reached up and touched the lobe of her left ear. “I must have lost it while I was changing Charley’s bed. Did they catch the murderer? Or know who killed him?”
“No one knows who killed Buggy yet,” Matilda said. She got a faraway look in her eyes. “But, you can bet your red hair that I’ll find out who it was! I won’t rest until I know.”
Matilda looked over as the door to the dining room opened and Carl Lovett entered the lobby.”
“Ann, you finally arrived!”
“Yeah, as I was telling Miss Matilda, the nurse asked me to help change Charley’s bed. Sorry I missed the banquet. Seems that I missed more than just dinner.”
“So, you heard about Buggy?” Carl said.
“Yeah, over the police scanner.”
"Carl,” Matilda interrupted. “I heard your uncle slipped into a diabetic coma. That’s too bad."
"Thanks, Miss Matilda,” Carl said turning to face Matilda. “I don't expect him to last past the week. He’s making a rattling sound when he breathes," Carl added.
"Mind if I stop by and see him to pay my respects. He was the one that turned Sugar Hill into a ski town. If it hadn't been for him, Taft trail would never have been cut. The town owes him a great deal."
"Sure, please come by anytime, Miss Matilda. I'm helping Carl take care of him when I’m not working at my cleaning jobs," Ann answered before Carl had a chance.
"So, is it true that someone killed Buggy?" Ann asked again.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what happened to the boy. Maybe Sheriff Dudley can tell you more. I know nothing about these things," Matilda said as she turned and glanced at Tara who was sitting on top of her cage.
“Buggy, Buggy hurt?" Tara squawked.
"Yes. Tara. You will not be getting any more sugar cookies from Buggy."
Chapter Three
“The Horse and Hound looks so elegant,” Trixie said as Matilda pulled off Cannon Mountain Road and into the driveway of the inn.
“Yes, there’s a lot of history in the inn,” Matilda responded as she stared at the white, two-story building in the shadow of Cannon Mountain. The ski slopes were so close that she could make out individual skiers as they schussed down Taft. “I wish we had this view from the Franklin Inn,” Matilda complained. “It’s worth a million dollars!”
“Yeah, but the Horse and Hound isn’t much competition. It only has thirty rooms,” Trixie said as Matilda stopped the Bronco.
“I wish we had fewer rooms. Trixie, do you realize that our occupancy rate during the ski season is only forty percent. We would be far more profitable with less rooms. Charley Lovett has a gold mine in the Horse and Hound. I suspect his gross is almost as much as ours, and his expenses are a quarter of what we pay.”
“You sound jealous of Mr. Lovett’s success.”
“No, not really. He is one of the most charming men I’ve ever met. The only blight on him was running down Buggy. I can never forgive him for ending that boy’s promising career. I mean he must have been drunk but Deputy Dudley who was the first to arrive on the scene never gave him a sobriety test.”
“Hmm, that’s the reason you have a grudge against Sheriff Dudley isn’t it Miss Matilda? But wasn’t it Sheriff Wilson’s call not to charge Mr. Lovett with DWI?”
“Never mind that. It’s water under the bridge,” Matilda said as she grabbed her walking stick. “Come on let’s go in and pay our respects.”
“I wish I had all these antiques,” Matilda said when they walked into the lobby. She stared admiringly at the Queen Ann chairs and the 18th century chest with the biblical scene of baby Moses in the rushes. “That chest is worth a fortune.”
“I guess Carl will inherit the Inn,” Trixie said. “Ann Bixby can quit her cleaning jobs when Charles dies.
“Yeah as far as I know, Carl is Charles’ only living relative.”
“Miss Matilda and Trixie!” Carl said coming down the stairs to the right of the check-in desk. “I’m glad to see you both.”
Matilda kept her face stony. She disliked the tall, dark-haired man with his fake smile. She didn’t know the root cause of her distaste from him. He was handsome in a feminine way that irritated her, but the women of Sugar Hill thought otherwise as they flocked to him. Ann Bixby was just the latest of a string of local women who had lived with him over the past ten years.
“How is Charley?” Matilda asked.
“His condition hasn’t changed. The doctor said he might wake up and he might not,” Carl replied, his voice sad.
“What caused him to go into insulin shock?” Trixie asked.
Carl shrugged. “I’m not sure. He gave himself insulin shots. And since he’s been clear of mind, I didn’t see any reason to insist that I take over the task. And I would have had to insist. Charley always liked to be in total control, as you probably know.”
“Where’s Miss Bixby?” Matilda asked.
“Today is her day to clean Attorney Casey’s office,” Carl said flashing his trademark wide smile.
“I guess once you inherit the Inn, she’ll quit her cleaning jobs and work full-time here,” Trixie said.
Carl maintained his smile with an effort as he shrugged. “Well, such talk is premature. Charley might come out of his coma and live for years.”
“Yeah, I’m told miracles do happen, although I’ve yet to experience one,” Matilda said. “Is Charley in his room?”
“Yes, I’ll show you up,” Carl said.
“No need. I’ve been to his room before. And knowing how much he loved the view of Cannon Mountain from his bedroom window, I very seriously doubt that he’s changed rooms,” Matilda said as she stepped around Carl.
“Uh...no he’s still in the same old room,” Carl answered. He looked like he might protest. But he didn’t object as Matilda walked to the staircase with Trixie in tow.
“Hmm, you’ve been in Charley Lovett’s bedroom?”
“That is none of your concern, Trixie,” Matilda said with a loud tap of her walking stick as she climbed the stairs. “To the right,” she added when they reached the landing.
“Look at that grandfather clock. It’s beautiful,” Trixie said as they walked from the landing into a long narrow hallway.
“All the way to the end,” Matilda said.
“Wow, what a view from the hallway window. If Mr. Lovett has the same view from his bedroom room, I can see why he didn’t change rooms over the years. And we are probably going back a lot of years.” Trixie glanced askance at Matilda.
“Don’t busy your purple dye-soaked brain about how long it’s been since I was here, Trixie. I’m sure such deep thinking will give you a headache.” Matilda paused in front of the last room.
Memories of the first time she visited Charley’s bedroom after his wife died in an automobile accident flashed through her mind. She sighed as she reached for the doorknob.
“Bringing back memories?” Trixie asked.
Instead of answering Matilda opened the door. The smell of medicine slapped her in the face as she stepped into the room.
“Smells like a medicine cabinet,” Trixie said wrinkling her nose. “Hmm, reminds me of your room, Miss Matilda.”
“Nepotism is never a good idea,” Matilda said. “I should have known better than to hire you.”
“Yeah, it not easy to fire your only living relative.”
“It isn’t indeed, as I am sure Charley also learned,” Matilda said as her eyes zeroed in on the frail figure lying on the bed covered from the neck down with a white sheet. “He’s nothing but skin and bones. But he was always a bean pole of a man,” Matilda said as she slowly approached the bed.
“He looks like he’s just asleep,” Trixie said walking up to stand beside Matilda. She put her hand on Matilda’s shoulder. “It’s hard for you to see him like this, isn’t it?”
“He stopped by for coffee a couple of weeks ago and seemed fit as a fiddle despite having lost a couple of his toes to the surgeon’s knife a month ago.”
“Well when you get to his age, things can go fast.”
“Trixie, seventy isn’t so old nowadays!”
“It can be when you’re a diabetic.”
“I see he has a mini fridge in the room for his insulin,” Matilda said as she walked over and opened the small refrigerator. “Hmm, the usual things a diabetic needs—insulin dispenser and orange juice,” she added picking up the insulin pen. She read the dosage window. “He was taking thirty C.C’s of insulin.”
“Is that a lot?”
Matilda shrugged. “I know next to nothing about diabetes,” she said putting the pen back into the refrigerator and walked back over to stand beside Charley’s bed. A
s Trixie watched, she leaned over and kissed the old man on the forehead. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Uh, I thought you would sit with him a while?” Trixie said.
“Why would I? He’s in a coma. He wouldn’t know that I was here. Seems silly to me.
Trixie’s eyes widened. “That’s harsh, Miss Matilda.”
“Life is harsh, child. I thought you had learned that lesson.” I guess I was wrong.” Matilda walked out of the room before Trixie could reply.
Trixie caught up with her as she slowly navigated down the stairs with the aid of her walking stick.
“You know sometimes the image of a stone-cold witch comes to mind when I hear you talking,” Trixie said.
“Yeah, I keep my broomstick in the closet. I’ll let you see it sometime.”
“Oh, you are impossible,” Trixie said.
“Back down already?” Carl said as he glanced up from the ledger he was thumbing through.
“Balancing the books at the end of the month?” Matilda said.
“Trying. Charley was a whiz with numbers, but I hate math,” Carl said with a sigh.
“I could have Trixie bring Bozo over. He can do your books in a flash, and I guarantee he won’t make a single mistake.”
“Bozo...oh, you mean the retarded hunchback who hangs around the Franklin Inn?”
“He’s not a retard. He’s a savant,” Trixie snapped.
“What’s a savant?” Carl asked Matilda choosing not to look in Trixie’s direction.
“It’s a person with mental disabilities that has special talents. In this case mathematical skills,” Trixie answered before Matilda had a chance.
“How much does he charge?” Carl asked.
“Oh, an ice cream cone will be enough,” Matilda said.
“You’re kidding me?” Carl said glancing from Matilda to Trixie. “She’s joking right?” he asked Trixie.
“Nope, if we don’t have any of Trudy’s special sugar cookies, an ice cream cone works.”
“Are you serious about him doing my end of the month books?” Carl asked.
“Yes, I’ll have Trixie bring him over tomorrow morning. He likes chocolate ice cream and sugar cones.” Matilda nodded. “Have a good day, Carl,” she added as she walked past him.
Murder on Sugar Hill Page 2