The guy put up his hands. “Don’t get mad, ma’am. I don’t mean any harm.” He gave a wheezy cough. “I just needed a place to stay.”
“Huh?”
“A place to stay. I don’t got nowhere else to go,” he said, and scratched the back of his neck. “Been traveling around for too long and this place looked nice, so I took a look.”
“You’re living here?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“About a month,” he said. “Been taking food from the kitchen, but only what I need, mind, not stealing or nothing.”
“A month!” I had to force myself to keep my voice at a regular decibel level. A month! And Gamma hadn’t noticed. Neither had I.
And we called ourselves spies?
Why hadn’t Smulder said anything? How had we been so unaware? We needed to get surveillance up in the inn because this was ridiculous. How could we expect to protect ourselves from anything or anyone when we couldn’t watch all the potential exits and entrances?
Focus, Charlotte. The intruder.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jordan,” he coughed, then produced a rumpled tissue from his pocket and dabbed his nose. “Name’s Jordan. Look, I didn’t mean to cause no trouble. I just wanted a place to stay, and I was afraid if somebody found me, they’d kick me out.”
He was a homeless man with nowhere to go. Or so it seemed. “What about the murder?” I asked.
The guy, if it was possible, grew even paler. “M-Murder?”
“Yes. The man you startled about a week ago, the one who screamed like a girl. He wound up dead the next day,” I said.
The guy trembled and took a step back, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I ain’t done nothing to nobody. Just been staying up here. That’s all. That’s all.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to call the police, regardless.”
“Charlotte?” My grandmother appeared at the secret entrance, her hair in curlers. “What’s going on?”
“I found the ghost,” I said. “His name is Jordan, and he’s denying any involvement with Vaughan’s death.”
“I swear, I didn’t do anything. I swear.” Jordan kept his grimy palms up. “I was just looking for a place to stay.”
Gamma sighed, studying the man. “Mr. uh, Jordan, we’ll have to call the police, I’m afraid. We can’t take any risks.”
I didn’t know whether to be excited or anxious. Either we’d just found Mr. Shone’s killer or we’d hit a dead-end in our ‘investigation.’ Jordan didn’t have any connection to my ex, which should’ve made me happy. Instead, I was stuck with a queasiness in the pit of my stomach.
Kyle wasn’t here, and I had the hunch that Jordan was just in the wrong place at the wrong time—after all, there weren’t any hidden blow dart guns in here, and if he had done it, why would Jordan have hung around for so long afterward? A drifted would’ve been able to sneak away without arousing suspicion.
No, there was more to this case than we’d discovered so far.
Where did we go from here?
19
It was 3am by the time the police had finished questioning Jordan. They offered to remove him from the inn, but Gamma had said that we would deal with it. Meaning that we wanted an opportunity to question him ourselves.
Especially since the police had cleared him of the crime. They wouldn’t say why, but he was free to go. It was exceptionally frustrating that we didn’t know why.
“Right this way,” Gamma said, sweeping into the kitchen, holding a hand out to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Please, take a seat.”
Jordan shuffled in after her, and I took up the rear. Thankfully, only a few of the guests had awoken from the commotion, and we’d coaxed them back up to bed with glasses of milk and cookies.
“You OK?” I asked Jordan.
He flopped down in the chair and rested his grubby arms on the table. Lauren would’ve had a fit if she’d seen him. “Well, I’ve been better,” he said. “Look, I don’t want no trouble, I just needed a place to spend the night.”
“Hot chocolate?” Gamma stood next to her seat.
“I’ll make it,” I said, “you sit, Georgina.” Sit and question our suspect. My grandmother was a master at getting answers out of people. Far better at it than I was. That was why she’d been the most decorated spy in NSIB.
I set to work whipping up three cups of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, keeping my eye on Jordan just in case.
The cops said he was clear of the crime, but I didn’t trust him, yet. After all, he had broken into the inn and stolen food from it.
Why won’t the cops release information about their suspects? Surely, the public has a right to know?
“Why are y’all being so nice to me?” Jordan asked, that disconcerting, white-blue gaze traveling from Gamma to me and back again.
“Because everyone deserves a second chance in life, and because you look like you need a break. Am I right?” Gamma asked.
“Might be.” He picked his dirty fingernails. “Look, it wasn’t always like this. I had a home, a family, and now… well, it don’t matter, anymore. Just don’t want to get in trouble with the law.”
“You’re not in trouble.” Gamma accepted a mug from me.
I set Jordan’s down in front of him, and he leaned in and sniffed it. “That smells great. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I sat opposite him so I could gauge his reactions to my grandmother’s questions.
“How did you get here, Jordan? To the inn?”
“I was just on my way through,” he said, “and I needed a place to stop for a while. Figured this place was as good as any.”
“And you just happened to find that secret passageway?” I asked.
“Well, yeah, I was checking the place out at night, but most of the doors were locked. Didn’t realize it was an inn or nothing until that guy screamed at me. I darn well fell over because of it, hit the wall, and the hidden door thing opened. I scrambled inside before he could kick me out.”
“Which man?” Gamma asked.
“Gray hair, kind of nerdy lookin’.”
“Mr. Shone,” I whispered. “So that was the night you got here.”
“Well, yeah. I’m sorry about all of this, but I don’t have a life like yours, Miss. I’ve gotta take what I can when I can get my hands on it, else I won’t have nothing to eat or no place to sleep.”
A heavy silence fell over the table. Jordan broke it by taking slurps of hot chocolate into his mouth, staining his pale lips with the dark chocolate.
“Do you have any family?” Gamma asked. “Anyone who can help you?”
“Nope. Family’s all dead or I don’t know ‘em. Anyway, I should probably get going. Don’t want to hang around where I’m not wanted.” He finished his drink and rose. “Thanks for the hospitality. Sorry about the cookies.”
“Wait,” Gamma said, and grabbed his dirty sleeve. “Don’t go.”
What are you doing, Gamma?
“I’m the type who moves on quick, ma’am.”
“But where are you going? Do you have an end destination in mind?” Gamma asked.
“Not really.” Jordan shrugged.
“Then you must stay,” Gamma said, jabbing the tabletop with her finger. “There’s nothing else for it. I can’t let you leave when you’ve got nowhere else to go, it’s just not the right thing to do.”
“Stay?” Jordan was flustered. “I don’t got no money to pay for a room.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Gamma said. “Look, I need some extra help in the kitten foster center, and I can pay you for your time. Give you a room to stay in on the bottom floor. It’s small, but it’s a place to stay. You can save up money until you’re ready to do what you want to do.”
I stared at Gamma as if she’d grown an extra head. Or lost her mind. Surely, she didn’t plan on letting this strange man stay at the inn? Not when he was a risk
to security, as he’d been thus far. For heaven’s sake, we didn’t even know if he liked cats. And just because the police said he hadn’t been involved, didn’t mean—
“You sure about that, ma’am?”
“Georgina. Call me Georgina.” She patted the table. “Sit, please.”
He lowered himself into the chair. “This is mighty kind of you.”
Mighty crazy.
“You’ll have to work, though,” Gamma said. “Late shifts. I’ve been struggling to find helpers who can do what I need them to. Are you OK with that?”
“More than OK. This is the nicest place I’ve slept in in years,” Jordan said.
I cleared my throat, but Gamma didn’t color or seem the least bit worried by what I’d think of this little agreement.
“I have a question, Mr. uh?”
“Ames. Jordan Ames,” he said.
“Mr. Ames.” I shifted my full mug of hot chocolate aside. “On the night when you first encountered Mr. Shone, the guy with the gray hair, did you notice anything strange? Or hear anything?” Directing the conversation into safer territory—at least for me—would help me refocus.
“No, not really, though… hmm.”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, the next night, when I went out to get some cookies, I heard somethin’.”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, I heard two people shouting at each other in the hallway, and when I stuck my nose out to check the coast was clear, I saw that same guy walking off, and this other blonde lady standing in the hall, staring at him. Boy, she had a look on her face that would’ve stopped a raging bull. Made it drop dead of a heart attack too.”
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?” Gamma asked.
But Jordan merely shook his head. “Sorry. Just heard the commotion, and that was about it.”
So, a blonde woman—could’ve been Stephanie or Bridget—had been arguing with the murder victim on the night of the murder. In the inn. My guess was Stephanie. She had the most motive, and she’d had access to the inn.
If she was our prime suspect, then it might be time to focus our efforts on her. Or it was time for me to do that. Apparently, my grandmother was going to be too busy setting up our newest guest at the inn.
I studied Jordan’s side profile while Gamma spoke to him about what his duties would be, and how she’d help him with new clothes.
It was a sweet gesture on her part. A good thing to do. But I couldn’t help thinking it would only wind up landing us in trouble.
20
The following morning…
I’d taken my favorite spot on the floor in the kitten foster center, having earned a break after our breakfast service at the inn. Sunlight, my favorite kitten, clambered across my lap, then climbed up my arm and sat on my shoulder. He rubbed his ginger head against my cheek, purring, and smearing kitty spit on my face.
“All right,” I said, “you’re cute. I’ll give you that. But don’t go overboard. I’m not great with affection on the best of days.” I took out a Kleenex and wiped my cheek, but left Sunlight to purr and meow.
I’d be straight up lying if I said, even to myself, that I didn’t enjoy attention from this kitty cat. He’d made me feel even more at home at the Gossip Inn. Whenever I stressed about the future, or when Smulder asked me awkward questions about it, I’d come through here and sit down with Sunlight in my lap. Take a breath. Smile. Enjoy the moment.
The more time I’d spent here, the more I’d realized how precious those types of moments were.
I scratched behind Sunlight’s ears, catching a soft pat of his paw to the side of my hand.
The foster center was quiet, with Natalie on the day shift, and our new permanent resident, Jordan, having taken a shower, eaten a hot meal, and gone to bed in his new, albeit tiny, room on the bottom floor to prepare for the night shifts he’d taken on.
Gamma had told me I couldn’t be the eternal cynic. I had to believe in some people, even if it made my stomach wind itself into knots.
Jordan had done nothing wrong, and a background check had told us nothing about him apart from the fact that he was an actual person.
But anyone could set up a fake social security number nowadays, with the right contacts in the right departments. What if he wasn’t really a drifter? What if he was…
Stop.
I took a breath and stroked Sunlight.
Jordan had told us something interesting last night, though. The argument between Stephanie and her father fit in with what Bridget, his business partner, had told us about their relationship. In fact, it fit in with everything Stephanie herself had said, and if she hated her father that badly, and had had a need for his money, this might be an open and shut case.
Anti-climactic. Silly as it was, I’d expected the ‘ghost’ to be the killer, and, potentially, a connection to my ex. But that wasn’t the case, and the murder itself seemed unrelated to what was going on in my life at the moment.
That didn’t mean I’d let go of the mystery. Not when we were this close to solving it.
Besides, it gave me something to obsess over.
“You all right, Charlotte?” Natalie asked, from the doorway to the incubator room.
“Just great,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Oh good. I thought maybe you were worried about the new helper at the inn. The gossip mill in town is going crazy about it. A man living in the walls. And now, he’s going to work at the inn,” Natalie said. “Are you sure that’s a wise idea?”
“It’s up to Georgina,” I said. “And if she thinks it’s a good idea, then it is.” Even if I didn’t agree with the decision myself, I’d never talk smack about my grandmother behind her back.
“Right. Yeah, you’re probably right. Georgina knows what she’s doing.” Natalie retreated into the incubator room, likely put off by my defensive reaction.
I gave Sunlight a quick kiss, then scooped him off my shoulder and set him down. I got up, stretching out. An idea had sprouted in my mind.
Perhaps it was a bad one.
I let myself out of the kitten foster center and made for the stairs, steps bringing a few creaks from the wooden floors. The trinkets I’d dusted this morning judged me from their nooks and crannies.
I peeked out the front door of the inn and noted a particular car was missing from the parking area in front of the inn.
Now’s my chance.
I took the stairs two at a time until I reached the second floor. I shuffled along the hall, dipping my hand into the pocket of my apron. I withdrew the ring of keys Gamma had given me to access the rooms in the inn. Easier for cleaning.
Stephanie Shone’s door unlocked with a clack that made me wince, but the room itself was empty.
Covered in cat fur, without my cleaning supplies, and with my mind working overtime, I broke all the inn rules and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.
“Hello,” I called softly. “Stephanie, are you in here?”
No answer.
Stephanie’s room was as quaint as the others in the inn, with a small sitting room area, a king-sized bed against the wall with cream sheets and a picture of a field of sunflowers hanging above it. The Cream Room, as we called it, was themed to relax the inhabitant—a soft rug sat on oak wood floors, and the sofas were fabric, but plush and comfortable.
The room was impeccably neat, and that wasn’t through any effort as much as I hated to admit it.
What did that say about Stephanie? That either she was just a neat girl, or she had a reason to be. Hiding something? I’d find out today.
I checked the desk first, but it was empty except for a copy of the Bible that was in every room. The dresser drawers were filled with makeup and the closet with closed, neatly hung up and color coordinated.
“Come on,” I whispered, heading over to the bed, next to the window that looked out on the back of the inn below. “There’s got to be something in here. Something.”
I bent and
checked under the bed, but nothing there either. I lifted Stephanie’s pillow and a flush of heat traveled through my limbs.
“Got you.” Lying nestled against the lip of the duvet was a leather-bound book, the front embossed with golden letters that read ‘Journal.’
I picked it up and opened it. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground. I snatched it up, unfolded it, and got to reading.
Dear Stephanie,
I know things have been difficult for you lately, but I wanted to let you know that I will always be there for you. Come rain or shine, sleet or snow, I’m going to be the man for you.
“What, like a postman?” I muttered.
You’ve found the right man in me. One day, you and me will be together permanently.
The rest of the letter went along similar lines. Soppy and romantic, filled with clichés, grammatical errors, and signed by Archie, the boyfriend who worked at the drive-in theater.
Shoot, this didn’t help one bit. So what if he loved his girlfriend dearly? There was nothing incriminating. No threats from him or promises of revenge. I folded the letter and tucked it back into the inner flap of the journal, then started paging through it, looking for incriminating entries.
There were a few where Stephanie whined about having to live in Gossip, but there was nothing disparaging about her father, and nothing that I would’ve considered being written in ‘code’ either. Notably, she’d written all the way until her father’s death, but not afterward.
What did that mean?
Was the journal a fake? No. Surely she wouldn’t go to that much effort to ensure she wasn’t discovered. Perhaps she had nothing to hide.
I gritted my teeth and placed the journal where I’d found it.
“This can’t be it,” I whispered. “There’s got to be something.” Maybe there was a secret passageway in here too, or a—OK, now I sounded legitimately crazy.
The gentle scrape of the key entering the room door’s lock sent a thrill through me.
Stephanie was back. And I didn’t have an excuse for being in her room when it was this clean, and I didn’t have so much as a feather duster on me.
I moved rather than thinking, opened the window next to her bed, and flipped myself out of it.
Mission Inn-possible 04 - Raspberry Revenge Page 8