“Yeah. It’s a mercy that he didn’t have to suffer through a protracted illness and now he can be with his wife.”
Mrs. Hubbard nodded. Zachary returned. He hovered just inside the door frame, looking at Mrs. Hubbard. “Did you find that key, ma’am?”
“Yes, of course I did,” the older woman snapped. “I’m not incompetent. There’s no need to ‘ma’am’ me.”
“Uh...” Zachary looked startled at her response. “I was only trying to be polite.”
“I don’t need your kind of polite. Looking down your nose at me.”
“No. Nothing like that,” he protested. “You’ve been very professional while we’ve been here. Trying to get through this...” Zachary motioned toward Mr. Dewey’s body. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. You have been with the family for a long time.”
Mrs. Hubbard’s shoulders relaxed. She nodded. “Yes... they’ve been my family for the last ten years. Longer than that, I mean, but since I’ve been on my own, all of my own family dead and gone.” Her eyes misted again. “We were both alone, Mr. Dewey and I.” She dug into her pocket and produced the key. She handed it to Kenzie, giving Zachary a look that told him she didn’t trust him with it.
“Thank you so much,” Kenzie said. “We’ll just finish up in here, and then we’ll lock it. No one else will be able to disturb things in here until the authorities arrive.”
17
Mrs. Hubbard left them again. Zachary stepped forward and handed Kenzie the ear thermometer he had found.
Another man might have disparaged Mrs. Hubbard after she left, calling her an old bat for the way she had reacted to his polite inquiry. But Zachary wasn’t that kind of guy. He shook his head. “Poor woman.”
“Yes. And depending on what the arrangements are for the Lodge, she might be out of work now. I’d hate to be looking for a new job at her age.”
“Yeah. Maybe she already has enough to retire on. She might just have stayed on with the family because of her attachment to them.”
“I doubt it. Working class women like her... She probably lives paycheck to paycheck. She has room and board, so her expenses probably are not too much, but even things like medication can be expensive at her age without some kind of plan.”
Kenzie took a temperature reading of Mr. Dewey’s body and recorded it.
“Thermostat downstairs is set at 72 degrees,” Zachary advised. “This room is a few degrees cooler.”
Kenzie tried taking the room temperature with the ear thermometer, but it gave an error. Not what it was designed to do. Kenzie added the information they had to the notes.
“Do you need to do anything else?” Zachary asked.
If she were in the morgue, Kenzie would have at least performed a gross examination of the body, checking for needle marks, bruises, or any other signs. But she couldn’t see Mrs. Hubbard allowing them to strip Mr. Dewey down, even if they did tell her Kenzie’s actual profession. And more than ever, Kenzie wanted to keep that a secret. If she let on now that she was a pathologist, there would be no end to the questions and speculation. It would be like being a performing monkey.
“I suppose that’s it,” she sighed. She went to the window and released the catch. She was glad to note that there were screens in the windows, so they wouldn’t allow the snow in, unless the wind were blowing directly against that side of the house. On sliding the windows open, they were immediately assaulted by the chilly air.
Zachary walked out of the room ahead of Kenzie and waited. Kenzie pulled the door shut behind her and locked it with the key. She continued to stand there, looking at the door.
“What else?” Zachary asked.
“I’m just thinking of police tape.”
“We don’t have any. And I’m not sure it would do any good. Everyone knows that this is where the body is, and I think they will stay away.”
“Maybe. But I would still like to have a bit more certainty. Where did Mrs. Hubbard say that the writing desk is?”
Zachary pointed down the hall.
“Would you see if there is some masking tape and a pen?”
Zachary didn’t demand an explanation, he just went ahead and tracked down the items she needed. Kenzie tore strips off the roll and taped them flat along the door jamb and the door, sliding her fingers over them to press them down firmly. She scribbled her initials over each one.
“I don’t think it would be easy for someone to get all of those off without breaking any of them.”
“Looks good,” Zachary confirmed.
“I suppose now we need to go explain to everyone else... and to tell them why they should listen to us when we’re just a lowly accountant and...”
“Unemployed bum,” Zachary provided.
“I’m sure you’re not a bum. You’re recovering from cancer. You’re just temporarily out of work.”
Zachary grinned.
Everyone immediately wanted to know all the details of what had happened. Kenzie did her best to be vague and yet impart to them that no one could or would be allowed to go into Mr. Dewey’s bedroom until the authorities had cleared it.
“This is outrageous,” Vance Stiller objected. “I’ve never seen such a shoddily-run inn before—”
“I’m sure Mr. Dewey didn’t plan to die,” Kenzie told him, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “I suppose you already have your death date picked out?”
“I’m certainly not going to die like that—” Stiller gestured toward the room.
“In your sleep? No, I don’t imagine so. Someone will shoot you or stab you in the back.”
Jack laughed, making no effort to cover up his enjoyment of Kenzie’s response like the rest of them were trying to do. Everyone seemed to be at the farmhouse now, having heard about what was going on and wanting to get more details, maybe even get to see the dead body themselves.
“Not that any of that matters right now,” Kenzie said. “The main thing is the police said we were to lock up the room and stay out of there. No one is allowed to go in. I think everyone is here, so you all understand, right? I don’t think there’s even any reason for anyone to go up the stairs. It was only the Deweys’ living quarters up there? No common areas?” Kenzie looked at Mrs. Hubbard, Samantha, and Burknall.
“No common areas,” Samantha repeated. “But there are supplies up there. I need to get my cleaning things, and it’s my responsibility to keep it all clean, up there and down here.”
“Well, you don’t need to do Mr. Dewey’s room,” Mrs. Hubbard told Samantha. “That is out of bounds.”
“It’s probably best if you don’t do any of the upstairs,” Kenzie said. “Just leave everything as it is, in case the police want to look at any of the other rooms too. Mrs. Hubbard can go with you while you gather your cleaning things, and you can keep them in the kitchen or somewhere else on the main floor.”
Mrs. Hubbard nodded her agreement to this.
“And no one else needs to go up there,” Kenzie repeated. “We all need to do what the police said.”
“How do we know that you even talked to the police?” Vance asked, making a face at Kenzie. He did not like to be told what to do by a woman, that was clear. It was one thing when Brittany, who Kenzie assumed was his girlfriend, told him what to do. It was quite another to have to listen to some random guest who thought she had the right to be giving him instructions.
“If you want to, you can look up the phone number and call yourself,” Kenzie said crisply. She assumed that Vance would not. Hoped that he wouldn’t, because she didn’t want Officer Star to give away Kenzie’s actual profession. “Then you can confirm that I called and they told me to secure the scene for them. They are overworked right now because of the storm, but if you want to bother them with your questions about whether you really have to stay out of the dead man’s room...”
Vance shifted. “I’m not saying I would break into his room. I’m just saying I think it is a bit much to tell us that the entire upstairs is off limits to use,
just because you want to act like a big shot and boss everyone around.”
“There is not anything for you in the upstairs anyway,” Mrs. Hubbard insisted.
“How do I know that? What if I need something that is up there? What if the main floor bathroom is occupied and I need to use the facilities upstairs? There are dozens of reasons I might need to go up the stairs.”
“No, there are not,” Mrs. Hubbard insisted. “No guests ever go up there. Only Mr. Dewey.”
“And the maid,” Vance reminded her, looking at Samantha.
“And she will only go up to get her equipment, and then she will stay downstairs. You do not need the cleaning equipment. You are not going to clean anything, are you?”
Mrs. Hubbard darted at glance over at Kenzie, proud of herself for standing up to the rich man or checking to see if Kenzie approved of her response. Kenzie nodded and smiled.
Kenzie’s stomach rumbled. She put her hand over it and looked around. She had forgotten all about breakfast, but her body clearly had not. She needed to eat, and then they could go back down to their cabin where she didn’t have to deal with know-it-alls and the tension that permeated the house with the news of Dewey’s death.
“I need breakfast. I suggest that we all eat so that Mrs. Hubbard can get things cleaned up. Do you have everything you need for the next few days, Mrs. Hubbard? I mean... with the storm coming in, we might not be able to get out for a supply run for a few days.”
“We always have plenty in storage here. I can make do.”
Several heads turned back toward Kenzie. They had been relaxing and getting ready to go their separate directions, but Kenzie’s words had stopped them.
“What do you mean, we won’t be able to get out?” Raven asked.
“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Brittany demanded. “There’s a big storm coming in.”
18
So?” Raven didn’t seem to be able to comprehend this. “So there’s going to be a big storm. Why wouldn’t we be able to get out of here? There are roads all the way here, we can just drive out any time we want.”
“No!” Brittany laughed. “Haven’t you ever, like, been out of the city before? If we get snowed in here, the cars won’t be able to get to the highway. And if they do get to the highway, it isn’t going to be plowed for a few days. We are isolated here. That’s why everyone chose the Lodge, isn’t it? Because you wanted to be by yourself, away from all the stress of civilization? Well, here you are. If we get a huge dump of snow like they’re predicting, it might be a week before we are able to get out.”
Guests looked back and forth at one another. Redd Flagg shrugged. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have anywhere I’m supposed to be. I guess anyone who does had better get in their car and get away now while they still can.”
Kenzie wanted to protest that everyone should stay there until the investigation into Mr. Dewey’s death was complete, but of course that was silly. Police said that on TV, not in real life. Everyone could leave if they wanted to. And if they did want to, it was best to get on their way as soon as they could, otherwise they would get stranded.
Jack looked at his watch. “When is it supposed to hit? I only need to throw my crap into a bag, and then I’m out of here.”
“It’s supposed to be here within a couple of hours,” Kenzie said, checking the time on her phone. “I would hit the road as soon as you can. It might already be too late. If you get into the teeth of the storm and it’s too bad, turn around and come back here. There isn’t anywhere else to get help anywhere close by.”
Jack swore under his breath and agreed.
The newlyweds spoke to each other in whispers, and Kenzie thought that they were also going to see if they could beat the storm. So much for the honeymoon.
Kenzie sat down at the table with her breakfast. She was glad she didn’t have to rush to get away from the Lodge. She didn’t want to pack in a hurry or throw everything into the car and try to get down the mountain at a breakneck pace in order to beat the storm. It was much better to sit back and wait it out. They had everything they needed. She nodded toward Zachary’s muffin, barely touched.
“Are you going to eat?”
Zachary sat next to her, perched on the edge of his seat, looking as if he were ready to jump to his feet at any moment. Though he had acted calm and focused during the moment of crisis, he was now too wound up and hypervigilant to relax. He didn’t even touch the muffin, looking from one guest to the other as they sat down to eat or left in their various directions. Mrs. Hubbard returned to her kitchen and Samantha followed her. Burknall grabbed a couple of danishes and went outside, headed back to the barn or wherever he lived on the grounds. He probably had a small cabin of his own, either with the guest cottages or somewhere else on the property.
It was difficult to eat slowly and enjoy herself with Zachary looking like a jack-in-the-box ready to pop, but Kenzie tried not to let him rush her. When she was finished and picked up her plate to put in the tub Mrs. Hubbard had left for the dirty dishes, Zachary sighed audibly. Kenzie didn’t say anything to him about it as they moved to the clothing hung by the door and got their winter gear back on. Then they were out the door and into a very cold wind.
“Sheesh!” Kenzie wrapped her arms around herself. “It wasn’t like this when we came up. I should have driven.”
“Then you would have to warm the car up.”
“But at least it would be out of the wind. Have you ever felt it so cold?”
He was hunched against the wind and she wasn’t sure whether he shrugged at her question or just ignored it. They both hustled down the hill much more quickly than they had climbed up it. It was practically a race to the door, and they both burst into the cabin at the same time, laughing a little in breathless relief.
It wasn’t until then that Kenzie even remembered about Tyrrell and the kids being there. All thought of them had been driven out of her mind when she had run up the stairs at Mrs. Hubbard’s shrieks.
“Oh, Tyrrell!”
From the look on Zachary’s face, he too had forgotten about his brother being there.
Tyrrell looked at the two of them, bemused. “What? Did you run all the way here?”
“Pretty much,” Kenzie agreed. “It is cold out there!”
“As cold as a witch’s behind,” Zachary said, reminding Kenzie of the fire chief who had been in charge of the rescue from the wreck Zachary and Kenzie were in on New Year’s Eve a couple of years earlier. Zachary hadn’t been able to remember much about the accident that had nearly taken both of their lives, but he remembered the fire chief’s colorful expression.
Mason giggled loudly and Alisha covered her mouth, primly shocked and entertained. Tyrrell rolled his eyes. “How many more times do you think I’m going to hear that expression on this trip?”
“Well, maybe a few,” Zachary admitted, grinning.
“It must have been a good breakfast up there, you took quite a while. Did you bring anything back with you?”
“Well...” Kenzie sat down near Tyrrell. “No. But we have some news.”
19
Do you think we should stay here or try to get home?” Tyrrell asked, after hearing about the developments up at the farmhouse.
Kenzie looked at the time, though she didn’t need to. She already knew it was too late to leave. It had probably been too late when they had discussed it at the farmhouse. With the wind that had already blown in, she wasn’t sure they were going to be able to get anywhere before running into the snow.
“I think we’d better batten down the hatches here. I don’t think we have much hope of getting home. I’d rather not be battling the blizzard.”
Tyrrell nodded. “Okay, good. And you think... it’s safe?”
“Safe? I think it’s safer here than out there. We have everything we need here.”
“I mean... you don’t think that Dewey died of anything that might be contagious, or that someone...” Tyrrell cleared his throat and
glanced at the children. “Helped him along?”
“No!” Kenzie laughed. “I think he just passed away in his sleep. Heart failure, probably. Even if he was in relatively good health, it’s not unheard of, especially for someone who has recently lost a loved one. When they open him up—”
Tyrrell cleared his throat again. Kenzie was not used to having children around when discussing medical examiner stuff.
“You said that it’s been a couple of years since he lost his wife, though,” Tyrrell countered.
“Yes, but that’s really not long. And he was on medications for depression and high blood pressure.”
Tyrrell shrugged and nodded. “Okay. If you’re comfortable with that.”
“I don’t think you have anything to be worried about. This is not a TV murder mystery. Just a natural death.”
“I just wondered, with all of the stuff you had to do to determine time of death and preserve the scene. It sounds like you thought it might be something else.”
“No. Those are things we do all the time. There may not be any evidence to protect in this case, but if someone else discovered a bo— discovered that someone had passed and our ME’s office had to attend, I would want them to do everything they could to preserve the scene just as it was too. It’s just best practices.”
Tyrrell nodded slowly. “Okay, then. Is there anything that we should be doing to prepare for the storm?”
There wasn’t much that they could do to prepare. It wasn’t like a hurricane, where they boarded up the windows to prevent them from breaking. The cabins were meant to be used year-round, so they were weathertight and had forced air heating already. There was a fireplace if they needed it, but of course they weren’t likely to use it with Zachary’s issues. The Lodge had a handyman on site, and he hadn’t said that he needed anyone to help with arrangements to be made up at the main house. They had plenty of food on hand. Entertainment by way of the TV and the other devices they all had. They would be able to get through the storm easily enough.
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