by Dixie Davis
Lori was going to have to do some real investigating.
Lori was brainstorming ways to “run into” Travis Vogel when the inn’s bell rang. She hurried to the door, though she wasn’t expecting any guests until tomorrow.
Mitch Griffin stood on the porch. “Hi, Lori. How are you holding up?”
She offered a solemn nod, an impassive answer.
“Well, this should brighten your day. Literally.” He held up her faulty brass lamp. “All fixed. I’ll run you a tab.”
“That’s great. Thank you.” And she almost sounded sincere.
She was sincerely grateful, but nothing was really “great” right now.
Lori set the lamp just inside the door and bid Mitch goodbye. He headed for his SUV. Just before she closed the door again, the rhododendron bush caught her eye. Dawn might not have liked the fresh flowers, but most guests would love the personal touch. She slipped out to cut a few for a vase.
What would go nicely with these? Lori looked over the garden. She had never been much of a gardener, but she was willing to learn. She spotted some deep blue delphiniums that would make the perfect counterpoint for the pink rhododendron. She headed for the blue blooms.
“Stop!” Mitch called.
Lori froze mid-reach for the delphiniums. Mitch leapt into action, dashing across the gravel parking lot. He grabbed her wrist and backed her away from the flowers. “Don’t touch those!”
“The delphiniums?”
“Delphiniums?” Mitch eyed the flowers and then her. “Close but no cigar. Those things’ll put a hurtin’ on ya.”
It was Lori’s turn to eye the flowers and then Mitch. “Are you sure?”
“I have a degree in botany. Fat lot of good it does me. But it does keep me from touching wolf’s bane.”
“Oh.” That was a real plant? “Well, thanks again.”
Mitch finally let go of her, and Lori took a step back. They stood there for an uncomfortable second. “Want me to get rid of them for you?”
“That would be great, thanks. So, you’ll bill me?”
“Once I get that door fixed for you.” The awkwardness extended another moment before Mitch backed away another step. “Got a client waiting.”
Lori waved goodbye and watched him go. Why had that encounter taken such a strange turn?
And then it hit her: Mitch knew plants. He knew that not-delphinium was bad for her. Could he also know what plants were poisonous enough to kill?
Lori mulled that over as she brought the safe flowers back inside. She arranged the Ocean Isle Beach Room for the family arriving that night, then double-checked her email.
The newest message was from her guests, the Johnstons.
So sorry, I just got your email, the reply began. That wasn’t surprising, since she’d sent the email only a few hours ago. I think we’re going to have to make other plans.
Of course. Because she’d felt compelled to allude to the unfortunate happenings of the week, and they’d probably tracked down the Dusky Chronicle website for the full story. Nobody wanted to stay in a B&B where someone had died that week.
On the other hand, that did leave her completely free to attend the Dusky Cove Business Owners Association meeting in a couple hours. Normally, she would’ve steered clear of Heidi Carleton and the organization she headed, but now Lori needed to see the woman who despised her so much — she needed information for her suspects list.
Lori waited until Joey left for work, his first time back since the murder, before she headed to the town community center two blocks from the Mayweather House. The steeply pitched red roof seemed too cheery, especially for someone investigating a murder.
Of course, Heidi was bustling around in the buzz, the pre-meeting murmur echoing off the high-shine hardwood floors and the skylights overhead alike. Lori sat through the mundane agenda items, preparing for the tourist season, all the highlights of the summer’s events. As if the secretary hadn’t already emailed all this out.
Fortunately, the filibustering only lasted forty-five minutes, and Salt Water Bakes had brought mini fruit tarts, so it was worth it. Lori bided her time, making small talk with Val about the still-vague cake and wedding plans, until she saw her opportunity: Heidi alone.
She hurried over to the woman with the impeccable dark blonde French twist. “Hi, Heidi,” Lori said before she was quite close enough for conversation.
Luckily, Heidi heard and turned to her. “Oh. Hello.”
If she was trying not to sneer, she’d failed. But Lori wasn’t here to make friends. “Listen, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but I do have a business question for you. A security concern.”
Heidi quirked an eyebrow.
“You see, the one thing I don’t really have from your sister is a list of people who might have spare keys to the place, and the police need to know.” They hadn’t asked, yet, but they did need to know. “So do you have a key to the Mayweather House?”
Every conversation within ten feet seemed to fall silent. Heidi blanched and backed away a step. “I — no — I mean, I don’t know. I used to, but I haven’t — I don’t—”
It was the first time Lori had ever seen Heidi flustered. Although her stomach made a sick drop, Lori only nodded solemnly. “I see. Thanks.”
A guilty performance if she’d ever seen one. Lori edged away slowly, unwilling to turn her back on Heidi until she was out of range.
Much as she’d wanted to solve this case and clear her name, being the motive for a murder didn’t feel a whole lot better than being accused of one.
Just before she made it back to Andrea, Lori looked around the room. Val Cromley now eyed Heidi suspiciously, and even Kim Yates had fallen silent.
The court of public opinion pivoted on a dime, it seemed. Lori hadn’t meant to set the town on Heidi. In fact, she couldn’t help but feel a little pity for the woman, even if she was, most likely, a murderer.
Heidi took in the attention focused on her — not the usual kind — and strode over to the podium, where the president of the association stood reviewing some notes. Heidi whispered to him and then she hurried out through the back door.
Guilty? Vengeful? Lori couldn’t imagine she’d do something to the Mayweather House itself, but Heidi might have already killed. Vandalism paled in comparison. Lori hopped up and headed out the front doors.
Outside, Heidi was practically running to cross the street. Was she heading home, or back to her shop? Was she really walking all the way home? Dusky Cove was small, but half the neighborhoods didn’t have any sidewalks.
On the other hand, running away meant Lori and the Mayweather House were both safe, most likely. Lori watched Heidi go before she finally turned to head home.
The morning sunlight cast eerie shadows through the gnarled oak trees onto the double-decker white porches. A week ago, her perfect home was more than enough to fill the dreams of the rest of her life. Now, it had begun to morph into a nightmare, and that was only a fraction of what Travis and the rest of Dawn’s family were going through.
Lori would make this right, or do what she could. She’d just have to convince the police to look at Heidi.
For once, Lori could have slept in, but she was up early to formulate a plan to convince the police she wasn’t trying to throw suspicion on anybody but her.
She hadn’t made much progress by the time Joey returned after his morning shift. Poor guy, working a double after doing so much to help since everything with Dawn. But he seemed as happy and energetic as ever as he practically waltzed in carrying groceries.
“How are our guests?” he asked.
Lori couldn’t help a pleased smile to think of the inn guests as something they’d share. Soon, if Joey had his way.
Until she remembered that there were no guests today. “They wanted to stay somewhere else, after what happened.”
Joey frowned for a moment. “It’ll pass,” he said, but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that still. Lori di
dn’t know how to respond. After a minute, Joey nodded at the grocery bags. “Guess I better get these put away.”
“Thank you.” Lori’s smile dropped as soon as he walked away. She sighed and glanced over at the evidence of the one productive thing she’d accomplished today: collecting Dawn’s things and the purchases Lori had picked up at the gift shop, that Dawn had ordered before she . . .
Lori would have to call Travis, but she wasn’t sure he’d stayed in town. Surely he’d be making arrangements at home. Well, if the medical examiner was done, anyway.
Making funeral arrangements, unfortunately, was something Lori did know about.
Having Dawn’s purchases might bring some small comfort to Travis, so Lori resolved to make the call as soon as she finished the brunch Joey had started making as soon as he arrived: fruit salad. She pretended not to notice that he also got eggs and a croissant on his plate. The man was skinny as a rail, sure, but if they were getting married as fast as he was planning, she couldn’t exactly hope to lose enough weight to notice.
“You’re kind of quiet this morning,” Joey noted before chomping into his pastry.
“Thinking about how Travis will have to make arrangements now. It’s overwhelming — and expensive.”
“Well, you’d had life insurance when you had to do that, right?”
Travis did too, she thought, but a check could hardly blunt the pain. “Yeah, I had a policy on Glenn.”
“Do you still have life insurance?”
Lori tried to focus all her attention on her attentive fiancé and forced herself to return his playful smile. “Don’t think I’ll go changing my beneficiaries quite yet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Joey maintained the teasing tone, but then turned serious. “Joking aside, if, heaven forbid, anything happened to you, I wouldn’t feel right taking the money. I’m assuming your boys are the beneficiaries?”
Lori nodded, her heart puffing up inside her. She’d never assumed Joey was a gold digger — there was much better prey out there, with real fortunes — but between confirming that fact and having him remember and care about her sons, she’d probably never been more in love with the man than right then.
“So,” she said, “by the end of May?”
Joey grinned.
After brunch, she waited until Joey started turning over the rooms for the next wave of guests: two couples and a family over the next week. Fortunately, she’d been able to switch the couple that had booked the Sunset Beach Room to another room.
Once Joey was working, Lori grabbed the phone and called Travis’s cell phone number. He didn’t answer, but it was probably better that way. She left a short voicemail, and then left to help Joey.
Although she wasn’t renting the Sunset Beach Room right now, Lori found herself drawn to it for the first time since that horrible afternoon. It had been released as a crime scene, and the crime scene clean-up company had been thorough, according to Joey, but this was the first time she’d faced that door since Dawn was here.
She’d meant to put back in the updates, but for three days, she’d avoided it. Now it was time.
Lori drew in a bracing breath. She clutched the box of décor Dawn had rejected. Sometimes she actually forgot how unpleasant Dawn had been to her during Dawn’s short stay.
Not that she deserved to be murdered.
Lori hugged the box tighter, steeled herself, and reached for the knob. The room was cool and quiet. The crime scene clean-up crew had done a good job. It really did look as though nothing had happened here, and the next guests could walk in any second.
Lori’s mind knew that wasn’t true, though. She turned her back on the bathroom door. It wasn’t even open, and still, she could have sworn she saw Dawn’s crumpled body on the tile floor.
Lori carefully replaced the worn-out decorations, trying to relish the fresh atmosphere the small touches added. Her memory, however, waffled between Dawn’s unwarranted rage at the update and Dawn’s untimely demise.
Lori finished her redecorating circuit of the room, and still she hadn’t even looked at the bathroom door. She didn’t really have to. The map and trinkets in the bathroom were passable. No update required. Joey had checked it after the clean-up crew had finished.
Lori was free not to look. To let that hang over her, physically and mentally.
But she couldn’t let that moment, no matter how traumatic, ruin her happily-ever-after plans. Dawn came here as a refuge during a difficult time. Lori needed the same respite, and so did other people. What better way of honoring Dawn than by keeping this place as the relaxing escape she’d sought?
Lori set the box, now full of the outdated décor, on the tan bedspread and stepped up to the bathroom door. Before she could lose her courage, she twisted the knob and pushed.
For a split second, the memory of Dawn’s body flashed before her eyes, but Lori blinked and it was gone. Only the pale beige tiles and the warm, peachy bathmat.
No dead bodies.
Lori released another breath and fetched the box from the bed, walking as calmly as she could from the room. She’d faced that memory, and she’d come out on the other side.
Lori locked the room door and glanced down at the box in her arms. She’d considered taking these “treasures” to the gift shop to see what Ray might give her, but that hardly seemed right now. Dawn had been so attached to them —
She knew what she had to do. Lori strode down the stairs and directly to her office, depositing the box next to the bag from Dusky Card and Gift. If Dawn had been so attached to them, maybe they’d have some significance for Travis, too. Remind him of happier times, perhaps.
Lori settled at her desk to dive into clearing the last of Beth’s cursed paperwork. She hadn’t gotten far when her phone rang. Travis’s cell number. “Hello, the Mayweather House,” she answered.
“Hi, um, you called about some things of my wife’s?”
“Yes, Mr. Vogel. Should I mail them to you?”
He paused. “No, I’ll come by and get them. Is now okay?”
“Sure.” Lori had assumed he’d headed home. Apparently, he was still in town.
She had time to enter only one old reservation form before the bell rang at the front door. Collecting the bag and box on her way out, Lori hurried to answer the door.
Travis couldn’t meet her eyes, focused on his own tennis shoes. “Thanks,” he managed.
“Of course. I’m so sorry,” she said again.
“I know. Thanks.”
Lori held out the bag and box. “I’d be happy to go through this with you if you need someone.”
“No, I—” Travis broke off and met her eyes. Behind his steel gaze, something softened. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
Lori gestured at the weathered rockers a few feet away, and Travis slumped into one. An odd chill hung in the humid air, and the sky was overcast, as if reflecting Travis’s mood.
“I keep hoping to wake up from this,” he muttered. “Did you say you were widowed?”
Lori settled in the chair next to him, placing the parcels in between them. “Yes, thirteen years ago.”
“Sorry,” Travis barely whispered. “I never truly understood how devastating that could be.”
“Some things you have to go through to really understand them.” Lori reached into the bag and pulled out the first thing her hands hit. A silver picture frame. “Isn’t that lovely?” She handed it to Travis.
He hardly glanced at it, setting it in his lap.
Lori grabbed another treasure Dawn had purchased, but hesitated. Maybe what Travis really needed was to hear that Lori was pretty sure she’d solved Dawn’s murder.
But she should probably tell the police first. Lori’s fingers hit a delicate silver sphere: a Christmas ornament. She handed that to Travis, too. “Looks like she wanted to remember us here.”
Travis stared at the ball and rolled it over, running a finger across the purple letters spelling out Dusky Cove. “We both did. We though
t you had the life, running that inn, making people happy. I mean, not you, but the other owners. Wished we could retire here and do the same thing.”
That little detail made Dawn’s death even sadder for Lori. Even though Dawn would have been a terrible innkeeper. Unless that adage was true that innkeepers make the worst guests, and it worked in reverse as well.
Lori doubted that.
She pulled out a small souvenir book, an adaptation of the poem “’Twas The Night Before Christmas” with North Carolina sights and symbols sprinkled throughout. Travis exhaled half of a laugh and tucked the book under the other items.
“Can I ask you something?” Lori started.
Travis waved for her to go on.
“Did you two know anybody in town?”
He shook his head. “Only the old innkeepers, and maybe one or two other shopkeepers on sight. Why?”
“Did your wife know anybody with red hair? A man, maybe? Tall, thin?”
Travis’s jaw hardened with each word. “Sounds like Vaughn Marks. Old friend of hers. He lives in Wilmington. Divorce lawyer.”
“Oh.” Well, that was definitely the wrong thing to bring up.
Lori tried to change the subject. The Dusky Card and Gift bag was empty, so she turned to the box. She pulled out the decrepit starfish display. Good heavens, the cracked frame and broken starfish looked terrible. She tried to angle it away from Travis, but he craned his neck. “Do you have something else?”
“No, just—”
“Is that from her room?”
Lori hedged. “I was getting rid of it anyway.”
“Wait, so you’re trying to make me take your trash?”
Guilt flashed through her chest like cherries jubilee going up in flames. Was this spitting in Travis’s face? “No — I thought Dawn would’ve—”
“First you insult me, and now you want to offload your junk on me?” Travis captured the regret and the anxiety coursing through Lori perfectly.
“No, not at all—”
“It’s not enough you took her from me, then? You want to go rubbing it in my face?”