Inn Danger

by Dixie Davis

  “Obviously he knew she was in town,” Chip said. “Or he figured it out pretty quick.”

  “Were the papers signed?” Lori asked.

  Chip paused, thrown enough that he actually had to shift a step. “Were they signed?” he repeated.

  Lori nodded. “If she served him with the papers, I’m assuming she’d already signed them?”

  A flicker of concern — or maybe doubt — crossed Chip’s face. “No. They weren’t signed.”

  So much for that idea.

  Chip reached out and patted her on the shoulder. As if this could be any more awkward, he let his hand rest there, uncomfortable for probably both of them. “I know this is hard. It’s not what you want to believe about him.”

  Lori held up a hand, cutting him off and conveniently knocking his arm away from her shoulder. “I don’t know what to believe about him anymore. Don’t pretend like either of us do.”

  “Right.” He fell back to a better distance, nodding. “I just . . . this isn’t what I want, either.”

  “Oh no? You don’t want to put Mitch away for Debbie’s murder?”

  “I want justice too.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and cast his eyes toward the couch. Did he expect her to invite him in? Sit down and bond over their broken hearts? Lori was so caught up in preparing to shut down that idea that she almost missed what he said when he finally murmured, “But I’d rather have Debbie than justice.”

  Was that the way a man who’d murdered someone thought about his victim?

  Maybe. Maybe if he’d killed her because she was rejecting him. But she’d known Chip for two years, and that didn’t really seem like him, either.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Lori stepped past Chip to check the peephole this time. A delivery man stood on the porch, holding a paper bag from Slush Puppy’s.

  Without a word, Lori opened the door. She accepted the delivery and paid with a tip — mentally noting the amount to charge to Shawn’s room — and then opened the door wider.

  Chip took the hint and walked out. She shut the door behind him and leaned against it for one minute.

  Divorce papers. Had they come from Mitch? Or Debbie? She knew Mitch had consulted a lawyer, but he didn’t say anything about actual papers. If Debbie had come to sign the papers, why would Mitch have been as surprised as he was when they found her? And why would he have killed her?

  Or maybe she didn’t want to sign.

  Of course she did. She was wearing a wedding ring. She’d moved on, and so had Mitch.

  But judging by the way he’d held her disappearance over Mitch for a decade, Chip had definitely not moved on.

  Had Chip murdered Debbie? Somehow, it still felt like a stretch.

  Then had Mitch killed her? Obviously he’d lied and covered up her death for eight years — and then dated Lori knowing Debbie was still alive. But was he really capable of murder?

  Lori delivered Shawn’s dinner to his room and stopped by the office to make a note on his account.

  She returned to the parlor, ready to sit down with her legal pad and walk through the evidence she’d collected and everything Chip had just told her, when footsteps sounded down the stairs. Lori turned to look: Jared had emerged from his room at last. She quickly flipped the legal pad facedown in her lap.

  “Was that Chip Branson I just heard?”

  He knew Chip? Oh, of course he did. “You’re related to Chief Lehanneur, right?”

  “So my mom tells me.” He grinned, but when Lori didn’t get the joke, he added, “He was my father.”

  She couldn’t help an eyebrow jump. Here was someone else who might remember the first time Debbie went missing. “Do you remember when Debra Griffin went missing?”

  “Debbie Watson?” Jared shook his head. “Sorry, I’d moved away by then. Sad, isn’t it?”

  Lori nodded slowly. Clearly he knew Debra, if he knew her nickname and maiden name. But apparently he wasn’t going to be any help. “Are you headed out?” she asked. “Dinner?”

  “Yes. Is anything still open in this town? Or have they already rolled up the sidewalks?”

  She barely managed not to roll her eyes. “Try the Salty Dog or the Mimosa Café.” Slush Puppy’s was open, too, but she’d thrown enough business their way today.

  Jared saluted and left. Lori turned back to her legal pad for less than a minute before yet another knock sounded at the door. With a sigh, Lori stuffed her legal pad in a drawer of the antique sideboard and answered the knock.

  This time, the surprise on her front porch was a good one: her younger son, Adam, stood there, grinning broadly. “Hey, Mom! Younger and more beautiful than ever, I see.”

  She’d gotten so sidetracked with Chip and Mitch and investigating that she’d forgotten for a moment that he was coming tonight. She caught him up in a hug, then held him at arms’ length. “You cut your hair!” she exclaimed.

  Adam’s grin turned sheepish, and he rubbed a hand over the buzzed cut, not much longer than the scruff on his face. Lori bit back her perennial question: why couldn’t he shave properly?

  That wasn’t important right now. All that mattered was that he was here. “How was dinner at Sierra’s house?”

  “Her parents’ house,” he corrected. “It was good.”

  “And how’s that big account coming?” Lori could never remember the potential client’s name, but it was a subsidiary of 3M.

  “The presentation for them is Tuesday.” He held up crossed fingers.

  “Are you ready?”

  Adam grinned. “Of course. Enough about me. Ready to put me to work?”

  Lori patted his shoulder, ready to dismiss his offer of help — dating the maintenance man meant that she was actually up-to-date on repairs now, at the start of the season. But that wouldn’t be the case going forward.

  Was it bad, though, that her most pressing concern wasn’t the inn right now?

  No, she was allowed to have a personal life, even if those could be very demanding sometimes. “I guess there is something you could help with,” she told Adam at last.

  He hefted his duffel bag and followed her in. “Name it.”

  “I’m investigating a murder.”

  Adam’s brown eyebrows immediately knit together. “You’re doing what?”

  “I’ve told you about this before.”

  He shot her a look that was a perfect mix of concern and skepticism. “I thought you were giving that up.”

  “When did I say that?” But then Lori waved away her own question. She had to focus on what really mattered right now. “This time I don’t have a choice.”

  “And you want my help?”

  “I just need someone to talk through the case with. Bounce ideas off of.”

  Adam’s shoulders dropped with his sigh. “Let me just set down my stuff. Downstairs again?”

  “Yep.”

  Adam kissed her forehead and headed down the stairs. Lori retrieved her legal pad and a pen and settled on the couch.

  But part of her knew that even talking this out with Adam wasn’t going to help make anything right. That same part was pretty convinced that nothing would truly be right, not ever again.

  Monday morning dawned bright and unsure for Lori. Mitch should have his bail set today, but she now wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

  She needed to ask him about the divorce papers, find out what he knew. But after their last conversation, she still wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to him. Ever.

  Lori put on the most business-y thing she had, a drape-front cardigan in a bright yellow that still managed to make her look professional and put-together. For a split second, she remembered how paranoid she’d been about her appearance for so long, certain she could never pull off something like this. What a difference a year could make.

  Adam had gotten up early — he had always been an early riser — and made his famous Liège-style waffles with the chunks of pearl sugar in them.
Her guests would think she’d been holding out on them if she served the best breakfast on their last morning. She joined him in the kitchen to cut up fruit and whip up cream — and find a gluten-free option for Shawn. Their small talk neatly avoided the case, which felt just as impenetrable as it had last night.

  “What are you going to do today?” Adam’s words seemed to echo in the kitchen. His tone made it clear that he wasn’t casually asking about her plans — he wanted to know what decision she’d make about the question hanging over her.

  Would she go to watch Mitch’s arraignment?

  “I don’t know,” she murmured. Did she want to know what plea he would enter?

  Did she still think he might have done this?

  Lori frowned, scooping the whipped cream into a serving bowl. She didn’t think he’d done it, but she still wasn’t sure whether that was because of her investigation sense or because she really didn’t want him to be a murderer.

  Even if she did go and listen to Mitch plead not guilty — obviously — there was no guarantee the judge would let him out on bail. He could just as easily end up right back in the cell where he sat now.

  “What do you think I should do?” Lori asked.

  Adam cast a quick glance at her, his eyebrows quirked. Point taken: when was the last time she’d asked her youngest for advice?

  “I don’t know, Mom. If everything goes as good as it possibly could, would you regret going or not going?”

  Things going as good as possible would require time travel at this point, to make it so she wasn’t dating a married man. And in that alternate reality, yes, she’d regret not being at the arraignment.

  After a pause, Adam continued: “If everything goes as bad as it possibly could, which would you regret?”

  The worst-case scenario would be Mitch pleading guilty. And honestly, she’d want to be there to see that, too, to know for herself, to watch his body language, to be sure he was telling the truth.

  Then it seemed settled. “Good questions, Adam.”

  “Thanks. I learned from the best.”

  Lori laughed. Surely he didn’t mean her? If that were true, she would have had this whole case tied up by now.

  Adam helped her prep a few more quick items: hard-boiled eggs and yogurt parfaits again for Shawn, and another fruit salad, and they made sure the dining room was guest-ready.

  “When are you leaving?” Adam asked after he finished counting the forks.

  “Who said I’m going anywhere?” Lori asked, half-teasing.

  “Mom.” He set down the handful of spoons. “I’ve seen you two together. You love him. He loves you. I know he screwed up, but if he didn’t do this and you believe that, then maybe he deserves a second chance.”

  Lori pondered his words a moment, creasing and recreasing the napkin in her hands. “Maybe” was the best she could give him.

  It was the best she could give Mitch right now, too. She was pretty sure she hadn’t even hit rock bottom in the process of grieving for their relationship, her image of Mitch, and his integrity. She still didn’t know what the future would hold for either of them.

  “You’re going, right?” Adam asked at last.

  “Yes,” Lori said with more conviction than she felt.

  Going to the arraignment didn’t mean she was going to give Mitch a ride home and a key to the inn, although he had kept one for her from time to time. She didn’t have to see or talk to him. She’d just sit in the back of the gallery and wait to see the results.

  Lori repeated that mantra to herself throughout breakfast. Shawn was as melancholy as ever, enough that Lori almost felt guilty for insisting on charging him and making him stay. Jared didn’t warm up until he’d had three cups of coffee, and then he chattered nonstop with the Besases, who were their usual selves, happy and enthusiastic and bright. Even Shawn seemed to perk up while they were in the room.

  Lori and the Besases convinced Jared to get out and head to the beach. The Besases were going to check out the museum and the colonial fort. Lori volunteered to hold onto their bags for them, since they had to check out now. Adam patted her shoulder, as if silently assuring her he could handle checkout.

  Once breakfast was over and the dishes assembled in the kitchen, Adam practically shooed her out the door. “I’ve got this, Mom.”

  She smiled back at her son. He’d always been her baby, and sometimes she forgot how grown-up he was now. For a moment, she just took him in, this adult stranger that somehow she’d brought into the world, now here to help her out in a way that no one else could.

  “Thank you,” she said at last.

  “Of course, Mom. Now go!”

  Lori reminded herself over and over again that she didn’t have to talk to Mitch or even make eye contact. He didn’t even need to know she was there, depending on how big the courtroom was. With a little help from guards in the courthouse, she found the right spot — there weren’t that many courtrooms to choose from. It was already nearly eleven o’clock. Had they already arraigned Mitch? Lori scanned the courtroom. He was nowhere in sight.

  She glanced around the gallery, in case anyone else from Dusky Cove might have come out for this. Mitch wasn’t without friends, although given the circumstances, who knew what they might think of him now?

  Of course, if his case had already been heard, any friends probably wouldn’t stick around afterwards.

  The first person she recognized in the gallery was Curtis Hopkins, Andrea’s husband and the editor of the Dusky Chronicle. The overhead lights shone off his bald head, the glare a sharp contrast from his deep brown skin. He’d definitely know if Mitch had been through yet. Lori moved to a seat next to him.

  “Hey, Lori,” he greeted her. “Do I even need to ask why you’re here?”

  “I’m sure you’ve already guessed the reason. Have they arraigned him yet?”

  Curtis shook his head. “Rumor has it the judge will deny bail.”

  Lori twisted her lips together. Angry as she was with him, she really didn’t think Mitch deserved to stay in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.

  Curtis pointed across the courtroom with his pen. Lori followed the direction. A door to the side of the courtroom had opened, and in marched Mitch in handcuffs.

  Everything about this felt wrong, more twisted and tortured than living in a fun house mirror. Lori wasn’t sure the feeling came from seeing someone that she hadn’t stopped loving — yet? — who’d done something wrong by dating her when he was married, or from seeing someone who she knew was a good and most likely innocent person in shackles.

  Mitch took a seat in the waiting area at the side of the courtroom, his eyes down. Slowly, they called up each of the other prisoners assembled there, read off their crimes, let the judge set their bail. One person pled guilty and got off with a fine.

  Didn’t seem likely for Mitch.

  Finally, it was Mitch’s turn. He was marched to the front of the courtroom, his lawyer standing by him.

  Lori could only manage shallow breaths as they read off the charges.

  Mitch — really, his lawyer — pled not guilty.

  Lori gripped the bench on either side of her, almost as tight as she had that night when they were in the boat.

  Right before they found Debbie’s body.

  “Bail is set at one million dollars,” the judge proclaimed. Lori forgot how to breathe for a few seconds.

  A million dollars? Her own bail — also for murder — had been less than a quarter of that, and she was pretty sure inflation hadn’t been quite that bad in the last two years.

  How would they — er, just Mitch — afford even the partial deposit required?

  Curtis gave a low whistle barely loud enough for Lori to hear. “Still got off lucky, though. I’d hate to be in his shoes.”

  Lori huffed out a bitter laugh. She’d been there, and she never wanted it to happen to her or anyone she cared about again.

  Mitch was ushere
d out of the courtroom.

  “Wait,” Lori said. “Did he say he was going to post bail?”

  “Yes.”

  She relaxed for a moment. She didn’t know how he was going to come up with that, but at least she knew the outcome.

  He’d pled not guilty.

  He was coming home.

  Lori thanked Curtis and left the courtroom. The whole drive back to the inn, she debated. Mitch would be home in a couple hours. Should she go see him? Was she ready for that? He hadn’t seen her in the courtroom, right?

  No, she decided, to all three questions. She wasn’t ready to see him, so she wouldn’t. And she was pretty sure he hadn’t seen her.

  That meant he wouldn’t know that she’d gone to support him.

  Did he need to know? Did she want him to?

  Lori reviewed the people she’d seen in the courtroom. As she’d waited for Mitch’s turn, she couldn’t help but notice Curtis was the only other one there from Dusky Cove.

  Mitch needed to know someone believed him. Even if she wasn’t totally sure about that sometimes.

  By the time Lori reached the inn, she knew what she needed to do: express her love language — food. She had this one recipe that Mitch really loved, bless his heart for loving sweet corn anything.

  Lori had always preferred her cornbread the classic Southern corn pone way her grandmother had made it: cornmeal with buttermilk until it looked right, salt until it tasted right and baked in a cast iron skillet until it looked done. The bottom was usually burnt, and the texture was strange to someone who hadn’t grown up with it, but it was Lori’s acquired taste. Any amount of sugar in her cornbread was anathema.

  But she’d tried a honey cornmeal cake to see if her guests would prefer that to her grandmother’s recipe — yes — and Mitch had fallen in love with it.

  She arrived back at the inn to find the Besases’ checkout managed perfectly, their bags waiting in her office, and the kitchen sparkling. Adam was hard at work updating a marketing campaign on Facebook — something Lori would never understand but was more than grateful for his help with.