“Gotcha.”
Just then the doorbell rang. “Wonder who that is,” Jill stated as she stood up to answer. I followed her into the entryway. She opened the door and a man stood on the stoop wearing shorts and one of those khaki shirts that hikers wear. He had thick socks pulled above his hiking boots and dark framed glasses.
“Hi, I’m Alexander. I have a reservation?” he looked from me to Jill.
“Right! Yes. I just wasn’t expecting you until later. Come on in.” Jill held the door open wide.
“Yes, sorry. I got here a little earlier than I was expecting.” Alexander came through the door and set his single duffel bag on the floor.
“Come in here and I can get you checked in.” Jill headed into her office and I went into the kitchen to get some coffee—decaf for myself, and Alexander. I poured some coffee into a carafe and placed it on a tray with mugs. I poked my head into the office and let them know there was coffee in the sitting room.
The sitting room was my favorite room of the house. It was long and featured several conversation areas. At one end of the room was an antique piano that must have cost a fortune. I could picture in the 19th century when people would gather in the sitting room while someone played the piano and they had after dinner drinks and promenaded around the long room. Somehow, I’ve decided that the old house was in Victorian England and not Appalachia.
Alexander came into the sitting room while Jill lugged his duffel upstairs. “Hello, how are you doing?” I asked him.
“Good. Good. I actually got into town a few days ago and stayed at the Inn. There is great hiking in the area and I canceled my Friday classes and headed out here on Thursday evening. I wanted to get as much out of this vacation as I could before the semester started.”
“Oh, where do you teach?”
“UNC Charlotte,” he replied, sipping his coffee. That was where Heather taught. Did he know her?
“What do you teach at UNCC?”
“Biology. Botany, actually.” That was pretty different than women’s studies.
“Did you know Heather Bing?” Might as well get that out of the way since I’d be wondering the entire week.
“No, why?”
“Well, she taught at UNCC and was recently killed.”
“Oh my God. No, I didn’t know her. What did she teach?”
“Women’s studies.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.” He shifted his eyes to the piano. “Great instrument. I play a little.”
Hmm. Changing the subject? Ok. “It’s been recently tuned, I think. Feel free to play whenever you’d like.”
“I might just do that.” He sipped his coffee again and cast his eyes around for another topic of conversation.
Mom and Tracey came downstairs at that moment. “Oh, hello! I didn’t know we had more guests.” Tracey headed straight for Alexander and shook his hand, Mom following suit.
“Hi, um, wow. Are you guys twins?” Alexander inquired.
“Yes, we are. How astute!” Tracey said, full of false flattery. Even after four kids and 55 years, Mom and Tracey looked like carbon copies of each other.
I rolled my eyes as Jill came back down. “Your stuff is ready upstairs,” she told Alexander and then gave him the spiel about meals and the binder.
“Great, thanks! I think I’ll just go upstairs and rest a bit. I hiked several miles this morning.”
“Sounds good,” Jill said.
I followed our moms into the kitchen with my coffee. Mom got out the mixing bowls and measuring cups while Tracey preheated the oven and gathered ingredients. They started their baking routine, making oatmeal raisin cookies. Of all the hobbies these two have tried, this one is my favorite.
Jill came into the kitchen and poured herself some coffee. She sipped it and wrinkled her nose. “Decaf? Ugh.”
“I can’t drink regular coffee all day and expect to sleep.”
“Weakling.” Jill poured the rest of the decaf into a pitcher and set about making the high-test stuff. Tracey mixed her cookies while Mom greased the cookie sheet.
“So, we have us four and three guests for dinner, right?” Tracey asked.
“And Leslie,” Jill added.
“Oh, right. And Leslie. Well, I think we have enough food for dinner for everyone. If they are interested, of course. If not, your fathers will eat the leftovers.”
“I’ll let them know when they come down,” Jill said.
At dinnertime, Monica and Steven decided to go out to eat so it was only the four of us, Alexander and Leslie. Mom and Tracey served steak stroganoff with mushrooms and fresh spinach in the dining room. The dining room is where the guests usually had breakfast, away from the more casual kitchen that Jill, the family and I used.
“This is delicious!” Leslie said. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a home cooked meal.”
“Don’t you visit your parents?” Mom asked. “Surely, they would cook for you.”
“My parents died when I was eight.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Mom exclaimed.
“It’s alright. It was a long time ago. I lived with foster families until I turned eighteen.”
“And you played soccer in school?” I asked her.
“Yes. It was my main release. I played every single chance I had.”
That made sense. She couldn’t afford school after her injury because her parents weren’t around to help.
“What about you, Alexander? Any awkward questions you want answered?” I asked him.
“Both my parents are alive, but they have been divorced since I was ten.” He scooped some pasta and steak with his fork.
“Oh,” Mom said, clearly disturbed. She and Dad have such a great marriage, she can’t imagine that not everyone has the same.
“It’s fine. It’s better that way, trust me!” Alexander said.
After dinner, once Alexander had gone upstairs and Jill and Leslie were in the apartment, I snuck a look at Alexander’s registration paperwork. His last name was Robertson and he was 37. It was a popular name, but I thought I could narrow it down. It was time for me to do some more internet stalking. Alexander had been in town when Heather was murdered and he taught at the same place. He said he didn’t know her, but he could say anything.
I said goodnight to Jill and Leslie who were, in my opinion, getting way too chummy. I settled in bed with my laptop and Chester beside me. I started by Googling Alexander Robertson with UNC Charlotte in the search bar. His showed up as the third option.
Alexander had a B.S. in biology with a Ph.D. in Biological Sciences with a concentration in plant science. He worked at Appalachian State for a couple years before moving to Charlotte. That was another connection to Heather. It appeared that their time in Boone may have coincided.
I switched over to Facebook and searched for Alexander there. I weeded through all of the Alexanders and Robertsons until I found the right one. His profile picture was of him studying some plant. The caption read: “Gaylussacia brachycera, a rare find!”
Ok. That’s not super helpful. I scrolled through his recent posts. Most were related to either plants or teaching, with the occasional friend’s share or tag. I dug deep into his posts and photos. Three years ago, he had a girlfriend named Jessica. I got a little excited until I realized that it wasn’t Heather’s sister.
There were several pictures of him on bike rides, which was another shared interest with Heather. I checked his Instagram, which was mostly photos of plants. There was nothing else odd to be found on his social media.
I decided to check into Leslie, whose last name was Parks. I Googled and checked Facebook and Instagram and could find no sign of her. That was pretty odd. Most people have an internet footprint these days. It is possible all of her social media is set to private, but I would have at least thought that her time playing soccer for Davidson would be in there.
I looked up the past Davidson soccer rosters and could not find a Leslie Parks anywhere. I searched through the photo archives
and came up with nothing there. Very, very odd. Why would she lie about playing soccer?
I closed my laptop and laid down on my pillow, Chester curled beside me. His purrs were as loud as the thoughts in my head and it took a long time for me to fall asleep.
Chapter Twelve
I woke late the next morning to the sound of Chester frantically scratching at my door and howling. I guess Jill was already out of the apartment, otherwise, she would have let him out. Clearly, he was missing his breakfast.
“Alright, jeez, Ches. I’ll get your food.” I stumbled over to the door and opened it. Chester continued to meow-scream until I filled his bowl with food. Roscoe looked over at me condemningly. He was judging me for oversleeping, I could tell.
“Give it up, Roscoe. I didn’t sleep much last night.” Roscoe resumed licking his paws as if he couldn’t be bothered with my excuses.
I changed into jeans and a t-shirt and headed out into the B&B in search of food. It smelled like blueberries and coffee, so I followed my nose to the kitchen.
“Well! Good morning sleepyhead!” Mom said as she reached for a plate and a muffin. She was the only one in the kitchen.
“Ergh,” I grunted, reaching for the coffee pot. I poured my coffee and stirred in about 4 tablespoons of sugar. I needed the caffeine and sugar rush this morning.
“Was that English?” Mom asked.
I sipped my coffee and said, “I didn’t sleep well. I overslept.”
“Worried about the murder? Do you want some eggs?”
“Yes, among other things, and no, I don’t need any eggs.” I took the plate with a muffin on it from her and sat at the kitchen table. Biting into the still-warm muffin, I inhaled the scent of blueberries and, after swallowing asked, “Where is everyone else?”
“The guests have eaten and departed for the day. Tracey is upstairs cleaning and Jill and Leslie went hiking.”
“What? How could Jill go hiking with Leslie when she has a B&B to run?” I furrowed my brow.
“I told her things would be fine here. Tracey was a little miffed about it though.”
“So am I. Something doesn’t seem right about Leslie. She just comes on too strong and she’s always talking about moving in here and helping run the B&B.”
“Maybe you should go ahead and tell Jill you’re ready to commit. Then she wouldn’t need Leslie at all.” Mom sat across from me with her own cup of coffee.
“I’m not ready to make that decision.” I finished my muffin and washed it down with the too-sweet coffee.
“Then you have to be prepared for Jill to make it for you.”
“I guess. I have to go. I have dogs to walk.”
“Have fun, be safe,” Mom said, the same phrase she’d been saying to me since I was old enough to go places without her.
After I finished walking the dogs, I headed back to the B&B. I grabbed a late lunch out of the fridge and sat at the table alone to eat. Roscoe wandered my way, sniffing to see if I had anything worth his time. He seemed to think my turkey sandwich wasn’t worth it, so he flopped down on the tile. I worry for his hips, the way he flops like that.
Alexander wandered into the kitchen seemingly lost in thought. “Hey there,” I said, startling him. “Are you looking for something to eat?”
“My god. You scared ten years off me. I didn’t see you sitting there. Do you always sit in the dark?” He gave me an accusatory look, like I had been sitting in wait for the simple pleasure of scaring him.
“It isn’t dark. It’s daytime.” I went back to my sandwich. After I chewed another bite I said, “You’re welcome to browse around for food. Our moms bought enough food for an army.” I should probably have gotten up and offered to fix him something, but I was eating and kind of grumpy.
“Thanks.” He opened the fridge and stood staring into its depths for a while, then closed it. He opened the pantry door and repeated the whole thing. At last he went to the sink and poured some water into a glass.
He brought his glass of water to the table and sat across from me. I met his eyes over the table. He was really rather cute. He had wavy black hair that kind of flopped into his blue eyes. His glasses were very hipster-esque but somehow, I didn’t think that was on purpose.
“So, are you enjoying Pine Forest?” I asked, only because I felt like I had to.
“Yes, yes. I am.” He sighed dejectedly. “The hiking is great. And you know, the solitude.” Why was he sitting here interrupting my lunch if he wanted to enjoy the solitude? I shrugged inwardly and took another bite of my sandwich.
Another minute passed in near silence, broken only by Alexander’s heavy sighs. I so didn’t want to pry—ok, yes, I kind of did.
“Is everything ok?” I asked him.
“Yeah.” He sighed again.
“You seem like something is really bugging you. Are you sure everything is ok?”
“Well, actually, no. It’s not.” He paused. Ok. This might be difficult. If only his sighs spoke English.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked. He met my eyes, seemingly angrily.
“You’re a girl.”
“Um, yes. I am.”
“Why do girls always say one thing and mean something completely different?” Ah, girl trouble. This I might be able to help with.
“Well, I don’t know exactly what you mean. Did you recently break-up with someone?”
“Yeah, kind of. I mean, she said she was all ready for a commitment but when I tried to propose she freaked out and left town. She said it was too soon. How can it be too soon? We’ve been together two years. If she wants commitment, it must not be with me.” He picked up his water glass and gulped angrily.
He recently broke up with someone. So did Heather. He certainly looks angry. Angry enough to commit murder? Eh.
“Well, is there someone else?” I wanted to be delicate, but infidelity is a great murder motive.
“Probably. I don’t know. Not that I know of.”
“Where did she go when she left town?”
“Probably her parent’s house in Virginia.” Alexander stood abruptly and put his glass in the sink. He left without so much as a, “See ya,” and headed out the front door, slamming it behind him.
Chapter Thirteen
Well. That was rude. He probably did kill Heather. Simply not wanting to marry someone probably isn’t motive for murder, but who’s to say if someone’s crazy enough.
Impulsively, I went to the closet and grabbed two clean towels. I headed up to the Gold Room where Alexander was staying. If anyone saw me, I would just be refreshing his room.
I used my master key and entered his room. The bed was made with military precision and there were no personal items left out on the tables or dressers. I went into the bathroom to leave the towels and spied a journal sitting beside the sink.
Listening carefully for Alexander to return, I opened it and read a few pages. It was a bird journal. He’d chronicled each bird he’d seen going back to 2017. He sketched cardinals and wrens, blue jays and sparrows. There were several that I’d never heard of. He was actually quite a good sketcher.
Toward the end, there was a page of writing that had nothing to do with birds.
I can’t stand this. I hate her so much.
I love her.
How could she have just left like that?
She must be the most selfish person in the entire world.
I could just kill her.
Or maybe myself.
I have to get away. I hope I can find what I’m looking for.
The line, ‘I could just kill her,’ was scratched hard into the paper so there were almost little rips in the page. Yeesh.
I heard the front door slam again and quickly set the journal down. I hurried out of Alexander’s room, shut and locked the door and managed three steps before he made it to the top of the stairs.
“Oh, hi again!” I said, awkwardly.
“Hello.” He brushed past me and went to his door, shoved the key in the loc
k, entered and slammed it behind him.
“Easy on those doors,” I muttered, under my breath.
That was close. I went down stairs and headed into Jill’s apartment. She and Leslie were sitting at the kitchen table, chugging water.
“How was your hike?” I asked, grabbing a cup and getting some water for myself.
“Good! It was tough, though. I’m exhausted,” Jill said.
“Where did you guys go?”
“Mount Mitchell. But we only hiked the Deep Gap trail.” Jill chugged some more water. Leslie, red in the face from their hike, was quiet.
“Still tough,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” Leslie replied. “I’m not in prime mountain hiking condition like Jill.”
“It was hard for me too!” Jill said, giggling and pushing Leslie’s shoulder, playfully. I raised my eyebrows. Jill isn’t usually the giggly sort.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Leslie announced standing up. She put her cup in the sink and headed out into the B&B.
I rounded on Jill as soon as the door was shut behind her. “What are you doing hiking with her in the middle of the day when you have guests here?”
“What’s up your butt? Our moms are here and they said it was fine!”
“Maybe, but this isn’t their job. It’s yours.”
“I know that.”
“Well,” I said, point made.
“Well what?” Jill replied, obviously irritated.
“Well. You shouldn’t be hanging out with Leslie when you’re supposed to be taking care of your guests. I had to entertain Alexander today and let me tell you, he is not a barrel of laughs.”
“Oh, poor you. You had to talk to someone. I know what this is about. It’s Leslie. You don’t like her.”
“I don’t even know her.” I put my cup in the sink and walked into the room where I was staying.
Jill followed me. “You don’t like her and that’s why you’re so pissed off.”
“Whatever.”
“No, no whatever! What’s your problem? She’s been nothing but nice to you since she got here!”
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