by Carly Winter
“No. Do you think they're going to assume I had something to do with it?”
“Why would you think that?”
Even though the customer voices were loud all around us, it was like the two of us had been sucked into a strange time warp and silence surrounded us as we stared at each other.
She shrugged and seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “I just... I just thought...”
“It's okay,” I said, gently laying my hand on hers. “Don't worry about things until you have something to worry about.”
“I just told you that yesterday, didn't I?” Ruby asked.
“If people think I had something to do with his death, it could be the end of my business,” Sarah continued as tears welled in her eyes. “I'm sorry the man died, but I didn't have anything to do with it.”
“Of course not,” I said, surprised by her emotion. Frankly, it made her seem somewhat guilty, or maybe she truly was worried about her business. I hadn't considered the consequences of a dead man being found in my bed and breakfast, so I began to worry as well. What if my business took a dive? I may not have a business if the police thought I had anything to do with Mr. Gonzalez's death.
Sarah's eyes widened and she gasped while looking over my shoulder. I turned to find Adam and the sheriff strolling in.
“Call me when they leave,” I said to Sarah. “Let me know what they say.”
She nodded and resembled someone about to be led to the guillotine. What was she so freaked out about if she didn't have anything to do with the death?
I smiled as the police approached the counter.
“Ladies,” Sheriff Walker said, tipping his cowboy hat. “I'd like to speak to you privately, Sarah, if you don't mind.”
“Of course,” she whispered, taking off her apron and coming around the counter.
The three disappeared down a back hallway to what I assumed was Sarah's office, but not before Adam glanced over at me with... pity? Had I read that right?
Thankfully, Sarah had her two employees to help her out with the continuous crowd behind me. I weaved my way through the people and back out onto the sidewalk, Ruby in tow.
“What's her deal?” Ruby asked. “She's acting guilty.”
“I agree.”
“Do you think she poisoned him?”
“I don't know, Ruby.”
“You need to look at that police report. See if they know for sure that's how he kicked the bucket.”
“I agree, but did you see that stare Adam just gave me?”
“No, but I bet he's looking for some action.”
“It wasn't that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It's like he felt sorry for me or something.”
“You got it all! Brains, a stable income, looks, a pert butt... why in the world would he feel sorry for you?”
A good question, but I didn't have an answer and I doubted I'd ever find one. “I have no idea. For now, let's head home.”
Chapter 10
Well, I certainly didn't have to wait long for my answer. I had it the second I rounded the corner to my street. The stare had definitely been pity.
Three cop cars lined up in front of my house and the front door hung open wide.
“Oh, no,” I whispered as I broke into a run. Ruby trailed behind me sort of floating while trying to catch her footing, as though I was pulling her on the invisible leash she'd mentioned.
“Would you slow down?”
But I couldn't. First and foremost, my door was open, which meant Elvira could escape at any time. If my cat went missing, the police were going to have a lot more to worry about than the dead guy found upstairs.
“What's going on here?” I asked as I jogged up the walk to the policeman waiting by the front door. “This is my house. What are you doing?”
“We have a warrant, Ms. Maxwell.”
“A warrant for what?”
“To search your house. It's now the scene of a murder investigation.”
I stared at his pudgy face with mirrored sunglasses and couldn't read him in any way—a guy just doing his job. “Where's my cat? Please tell me you didn't let her out.”
“Haven't seen one leave the premises.”
How terribly unhelpful.
“Can I go in? Please? I need to find Elvira and make sure she doesn't get out.”
Sedona sat up in the mountains and we had all sorts of wildlife hanging around that would appreciate Elvira as their meal: coyotes, bobcats and hawks, just to name a few.
“You can enter and sit on the couch with the others,” he said, stepping to the side.
“The others? Who are they?”
“That would be your guests,” Ruby said, standing in the doorway. “They're sitting on the couch. The fuzz is searching every room, bagging stuff up. It's a mess.”
“The Thompsons?” the cop asked incredulously. “Surely you remember they rented a room from you?” Of course. In all the happenings of the day, I'd forgotten about them. “You can go sit with them.”
I nodded and entered, glancing everywhere for Elvira. I turned to the cop. “Can I please ask if anyone's seen my cat?”
After unclipping a radio from his belt, he spoke into it. “Anyone seen a cat around?”
“Negative.”
“Yup. In the downstairs bedroom under the bed. Dang thing about clawed out my eyeball during my search.”
“There you go,” the cop said.
“Thank you.” At least Elvira was okay and I secretly liked she'd taken a swipe at the cop. “Can I go grab her?”
“Negative. Sit on the couch, Ms. Maxwell.”
“Then don't let her out of the house.” He pulled down his glasses and glared at me, thoroughly exasperated. “Please? I can't lose my cat.”
He nodded and pointed toward the living room.
Somewhere along the way, Ruby had disappeared. As I walked into the living room, the Thompsons stared at me accusingly. I had told them nothing happened in the bedroom, and now my house was being tossed by the cops. They didn't have to be overly smart to figure out I'd lied to them.
“This is an interesting turn of events,” Bobbie said as I sat down. “What the heck is going on? A murder? Here? Is that correct? That's what the police told us.”
I nodded and glanced down at my clasped hands. My new ring had turned black, the sign of stress. Why wasn't I surprised?
“You owe us an explanation,” Bob said. “They're going through our things and we've been caught up in something awful. I don't know if we would have stayed with you if we'd known there'd been a murder in the house!”
I cleared my throat and considered my words carefully. “Yes, a man died in that room upstairs. At the time, the police thought he'd been poisoned, but they didn't mention a murder.”
“Is there a difference?” Bobbie asked. “I mean, he was poisoned! That equates to murder in my book.”
“People also commit suicide by drinking poison,” I said. “So, I wasn't comfortable telling anyone what had happened until I knew the cause of death.”
“Well, the police think that you had something to do with it, or they wouldn't be tearing apart your house,” Bobbie growled. “This is unbelievable.”
Guilt washed over me as I stared at my guests. Yes, they'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now had become a part of this investigation. “I'm sorry you've been caught up in this. Honestly, I had no idea what was going on. I just knew a man died. I didn't know it was murder.”
“It doesn't make any sense,” Bobbie hissed. “Why in the world would someone check into a bed and breakfast to kill themselves? How silly.”
“Actually, it's nothing new,” Bob said, patting his wife's hand. “Oftentimes, people don't want their loved ones to find them, so they do check into hotels and such.”
I narrowed my gaze on them as it occurred to me they were supposed to be hiking and practicing yoga at Cathedral Rock. What had they done? Gone out there, stayed five minutes, and returned? The hike itself was a good
couple of hours. “How was yoga at the vortex?”
“It was fine,” Bob muttered.
But I also noted he wore jeans. I tried to recall him this morning, and I realized he had the same pants on then. Who did yoga in jeans? No one, that's who.
Something wasn't adding up with the two, and my guilt over the situation dissipated rather quickly.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson?” a cop called as he rounded the corner from the kitchen. “Could you please come in here?”
They rose from the couch and followed the police. I ground my jaw, wishing I could hear what they spoke about. Then, I realized I had my ghost.
“Ruby!” I whispered, springing to my feet. “Ruby! Come here! I need you!” I glanced around the room, waiting for her to make an appearance. Nothing. “Dang it, Ruby! Come here! Please!”
“Just yesterday you were telling me to go away,” Ruby said as she pranced into the room, Elvira trailing behind her. “And now, here you are begging me to make an appearance. I feel like a movie star or something!”
“Go into the kitchen and find out what that cop is asking the Thompsons!” I whispered as I picked up Elvira.
“Not even a thank you for wrangling your cat?”
“Thank you!” I hissed, trying not to roll my eyes. “Please, go find out what's being said!”
Ruby turned, tossed her ponytail over her shoulder, and left for the kitchen.
“I'm sorry about all the people in your house,” I whispered to Elvira as I curled up on the couch with her. She began to purr but kept her gaze firmly on the hallway leading to the kitchen, her ears twitching with every sound wafting down from upstairs.
My phone rang, and I quickly answered it.
“We see you have company,” the mechanical voice said. I gasped as fear gripped my chest. “Keep them away from the car.”
“How do I do that?” I whispered.
“We suggest you send them looking somewhere else besides your home.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I glanced around my living room. Every drawer had been opened, my things strewn about. They'd even poked around in the fireplace—the logs I'd arranged so artfully now lay scattered.
“Just come get your stupid car,” I hissed.
“We will in time. Deflect the police.”
The line went dead as a cop walked into the living room carrying a box filled with all my cleaning supplies without even glancing at me. How the heck was I supposed to tidy up the rooms now? I'd have to hurry to the store for more supplies.
Whoever was responsible for Mr. Gonzalez’s death watched the house closely and rankled my nerves. How was I supposed to keep the cops away from the car? They acted like I was some career criminal with a lot of experience with the police and investigations. Boy, were they wrong. Straight and narrow was my path. I kept my head down and my nose clean. What the heck had I gotten myself into?
Ruby appeared a few minutes later. Too bad she wasn't alive. The mess seemed to be perfect for her lane in life.
“What are they saying?” I whispered as she sat down next to me.
“That they're on their honeymoon and they're absolutely mortified by the utter chaos—their words, not mine— they've found themselves in. They plan on leaving as soon as the police let them.” She used her hand to fan her face, then brought it to her forehead and sighed, very silent-movie-like. “The drama in there is thicker than melted chocolate.”
I ignored her theatrics. “Honeymoon? They didn't mention anything about it when they checked in.”
“That's what they told the cops.”
On my reservation form, I specifically ask if guests are celebrating anything special during their stay with me. They had checked the “no” box. Perhaps they didn't want to have a big deal made out of their trip? Or were they lying to the police? But what would be the motive?
And what had happened to their day trip of yoga and hiking? They could have only been gone an hour or two, tops.
When they emerged from the kitchen with the cop behind them, each shot me a glare. The officer motioned me to follow him as the Thompsons went outside with Bobbie wiping her teary eyes. Not buying your drama, lady.
I stood and took Elvira with me for emotional support, feeling as if I were being led to a firing squad for a crime I hadn't committed.
“Sit down, please,” he said gruffly, motioning to my kitchen table.
Once we were situated, I studied his brown and gray hair that desperately needed a cut, and his hard, no-nonsense gaze. Placing him somewhere in his forties or fifties, I realized he'd run out of patience long ago.
“So, tell me why you lied to the police yesterday.”
He didn't waste time reminding me of my offense or bother to introduce himself. However, me telling the truth that I had my dead grandmother's ghost floating around talking to me wouldn't bode well for me either. “I didn't lie... Officer Mitchell.” Thank goodness for nametags. “I lost track of time and made a mistake.”
“Uh huh. Here's what I think happened. I think you killed that man.”
My hand moved over Elvira in a soothing rhythm that I hoped hid my trembling fingers. “I didn't kill anyone,” I said, my voice soft despite my panic and desire to scream anxiously. “I wasn't even here when he checked in.”
He narrowed his gaze on me. “Where were you?”
And here it was. My chance to throw out a bunch of names that deflected from them focusing on me.
“I flew in from Louisiana and grabbed the shuttle from Phoenix. I told the sheriff this yesterday. I still have the receipts if you'd like to see them.”
“Where are they?”
“On my bedroom dresser.”
He unhooked the radio from his belt. “Troy, do you see receipts on the dresser for a flight and shuttle yesterday?”
It was bad enough the police were tearing apart my house, but queasiness set in at the thought of a man I didn't know rummaging through my private sanctuary and touching my personal things.
“Yup. Already bagged them.”
After setting down the radio, he took a couple of notes and then glared at me again. “Where’s your boarding pass for the flight?”
“I erased it from my phone on the drive up from Phoenix,” I said. I may have the receipts that I paid for the airline and the shuttle, but I never in a million years imagined I’d need to keep the boarding pass. I liked my phone the way I liked my house and my life in general: neat and tidy. I always erased things I didn’t need.
“If you weren't here, who checked him in? Do you have an employee?”
“My friend Darla was here in the morning.”
“Darla who?”
“Darla Darling.”
“The woman who owns the diner?”
“Yes.”
He scratched her name down and I realized I'd just thrown her under the proverbial bus... unless, of course, she'd killed Mr. Gonzalez. Then, that meant I'd just handed the murderer over to the police. Either way I didn't think Darla would be pleased with me but hopefully she'd understand that I couldn't lie to the police. Again.
“He also had a fight with Stan from As the Pins Drop,” I continued, desperate to take the focus off me. Besides, I didn't feel bad about putting Stan in their crosshairs. Call me cruel, but I hadn't particularly liked the guy.
“How do you know?”
“Darla saw them argue and I talked to Stan about it. He said Mr. Gonzalez was a bad driver and they had words over a near-crash on the highway.”
“Why didn't you tell us any of this yesterday?”
“I didn't know any of it then.”
He tapped his pen against the pad of paper. “I feel as though you are sending me on a wild goose chase to take the focus off yourself.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Shrugging, I wished I could think of another name to toss his way. They were already questioning Sarah, so it seemed overkill to mention her again. “I wasn't in town in the morning hours. I didn't have anything to do with his death.”
>
“What about that afternoon? While you were sleeping? Did you lock the front door?”
I'd given that a great deal of thought, and the answer was probably no, but I couldn't be sure. I had been quite distracted by discovering my ghost. “I'm not positive, but I don't think so.”
That also added another layer of diversion off me. Someone could have waltzed right in and killed the man. But why only him? Why not me as well? And if that had been the case, why hadn't Ruby noticed? Perhaps she'd gone to her tunnel. I'd have to ask.
Sweat formed on my brow and I tried to wipe it away as nonchalantly as possible. My stress level climbed in minuscule amounts by the second.
“Anything else you'd like to share, Ms. Maxwell?”
His stare indicated he still thought I was guilty, but I smiled and shook my head, hoping I didn't break out into tears.
“We'll be out of your house soon. Until then, stay put either here or in the living room.”
After he rose from the chair, I looked around my kitchen. Again, the drawers had been opened and everything emptied. If every room resembled what I'd already seen, it would take me hours, if not days, to put my home back together.
And it had become more apparent than ever that I needed to solve the case for two reasons: first, to avoid prison, and second, to keep breathing. I didn’t want to become the next victim.
Chapter 11
“Ruby, where were you yesterday afternoon when I lay down to take a nap?” I asked, picking up a dining room placemat from the floor and stacking it on top of the others. After counting once again, I realized I was still missing one from the set. Where had it gone?
“I went to my tunnel,” she said. “After you finally noticed me and convinced yourself you'd gone bonkers, I became a little depressed.” She sprawled out on the couch with Elvira lying at her feet. “I mean, I was your favorite grandma, and you weren't the least bit excited to see me.”
“It's not every day I come across someone who's been dead for three years,” I muttered as I glanced around for my missing placemat. Honestly, I became more irritated with those cops by the second. “I can't believe this mess.”