Murder at the Inn

by London Lovett

  "That's a shame." A thought popped into my head.

  He seemed to read my mind. "You want to go along, don't you?"

  I pressed my finger coyly to my lips. (The lips that were almost kissed tonight.) "Could I?"

  "Maybe it's not such a bad idea. You seem to be pretty good at calming Kitty down."

  "Yippee. I'm going on a ride-along with the Firefly Junction police."

  Chapter 28

  Jackson told me about his childhood and his two big brothers, who teased him mercilessly. He didn't bring up the disembodied voice in my house, and I was just as glad not to think about it. By the time we arrived at Dandelion Inn, the rain had fizzled to a mist, but the moisture evaporating off the road produced an eerie haze.

  Jackson parked the car. "That fog makes the Dandelion Inn look like it belongs on the set of a scary movie."

  "I was just thinking the same thing." There was no one on the porch or outside the house but then it was dark and wet. "I don't see people running from the house or an ambulance so maybe that's a good sign," I said.

  "Kitty muttered something about a portrait and violent damage. Or at least I think that was what she said. She was hyperventilating and taking such sharp breaths in between it was hard to understand."

  We climbed out of the car. I pulled my coat closer. "Seems like winter is trying to push its way into autumn."

  "These look slippery." Jackson placed a protective hand against my back as we climbed the wet steps to the porch. Even through cool mist and my raincoat, I could still feel the heat of his hand seconds after he dropped it.

  Lucy, the chef, opened the door. "Detective Jackson," she said breathlessly. "This way. We fixed Kitty some tea. It helped calm her down, but we're all so distraught."

  "Is someone hurt?" Jackson asked as we followed Lucy past the stairs. The cleaning crew had done a stellar job. There was no sign of the terrible fatal fall.

  "No one is hurt, but there's been some violence," Lucy said over her shoulder. She was wearing a blue robe over pajamas. "I just don't know who would do such a thing."

  Lucy ushered us into the dining room. Kitty was sitting, shoulders hunched and swollen eyes, at a table. Angela had a comforting hand on Kitty's arm. Barbara sat at the same table looking shaken. Her hand trembled as she brought her tea cup to her mouth. Everyone except Rex was dressed for bed.

  Rex and Wilma were standing across the room staring up at the portrait of Lauren Grace. There was no sign of Jamie Nielsen.

  "There you are, Jackson," Rex's voice boomed in the quiet room. "What do you think of this? Strangest case of vandalism I've ever seen. Makes no sense."

  Jackson and I walked over to the fireplace where the ornately framed portrait of Lauren Grace hung.

  I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp. The canvas, Miss Grace's beautiful face included, had been shredded as if a tiger had run its sharp claws down the painting several times. It was unsalvageable.

  Jackson was the only person tall enough to get a close look at the damage. He put his face right up to the torn painting. "Looks like a knife or possibly a razor."

  "I was wrong then," Wilma said meekly. She held up a letter opener. "I found this squeezed between those two chafing dishes on the buffet. I know it wasn't there the last time I dusted the buffet, and I've never seen Kitty open mail in the dining room. The letter opener is usually on the desk in the kitchen."

  Jackson's mouth twisted in frustration. "Could you just lay it on the mantel. Try not to touch any more than the handle section between your fingers. I need to collect it for evidence. I'd say your theory is a good one."

  Wilma couldn't hold back a smile. "I'll just place it here gently. I promise I didn't touch it too much."

  Jackson and I walked over and sat at the table with the women. The first time I met Kitty she was a bright-eyed, energetic woman with a pretty pile of pinkish-blonde curls. It was hard to believe that was only two days ago. She was a thin, frail shell of her former self. This had undoubtedly made the list for worst weeks at Dandelion Inn.

  Jackson reached over and touched Kitty's hand. "I know this has been a stressful week, Miss Bloomfield, but can you tell me what happened?"

  Her thin shoulders jolted up and down. "I wish I knew. Everyone was tired and weary from—well, you know. So I had Lucy cook up a nice split pea soup and some of her cornbread. With the rainy weather and all, it was just what everyone needed. We finished the whole pot," she said with a slightly happier tone. "Everyone decided to go to bed since they were going to be traveling back home tomorrow. Lucy, Wilma and I were exhausted from the terrible week."

  "Is Jamie Nielsen still in bed?" Jackson asked.

  Kitty looked around and seemed to realize for the first time that one of the guests was missing.

  "Jamie left right after dinner," Rex interjected. "Said he had some errands to do before we take off on our road trip."

  "And the painting was untouched at dinner?" Jackson asked.

  Kitty nearly scoffed. "Of course. We would have noticed it otherwise. In fact, every night, before I go to bed, I make a point of tapping the mantel right under the painting. Then I say, "Good night, Lauren. No mischief please."

  Lucy nodded. "She does. Every night." There was a twinge of sarcasm behind her words.

  "I can tell you Lauren Grace was as lovely as ever when I said good night to her after dinner," Kitty said.

  "What happened next?" Jackson asked.

  "The usual. Everyone got ready for bed and lights went out. The house was silent and peaceful for the first time in two days." Kitty took a deep, shuddering breath. "Then Wilma started yelling. I was hoping it was just a dream because I didn't need another tragedy."

  Jackson turned to Wilma, who shifted in her seat and straightened her posture, suddenly aware all eyes were on her.

  "I came back downstairs for a drink of water. I get thirsty at night, and I don't care for the tap water in the bathroom. It tastes funny." She crinkled her nose cutely, which I felt strongly was a gesture just for Jackson. "Anyhow, I came down here and walked straight into the kitchen for the water. Naturally, I had no reason to look back at the portrait. I dust that gold frame every day. I see Miss Grace plenty. But when I walked back out, the lights from the kitchen appliances lit the dining room up for a second. My eyes just happened to drift toward the painting. The room went dark when the kitchen door shut, but I knew something didn't look right. Miss Grace's white dress had stripes. I hurried over to switch on the light and just about fainted. That's when I started yelling for Kitty. She came downstairs a few minutes later."

  Jackson looked at Angela. "And you, Miss Applegate? Did you hear or see anything?"

  Angela had dark rings under her eyes. "I took some cold medicine. I don't have a cold, but it helps me sleep. Kenny's death has given me insomnia," she added. "I was just dropping into a deep sleep when I heard agitated voices in the hallway. It took me a few minutes to shake the grogginess from my head. I grabbed my robe and went downstairs to see what was happening."

  Lucy gave close to the same account, sans the cold medicine and insomnia issue. Barbara was extremely quiet while everyone else spoke. She'd had an ordeal herself and had only recently been released from the hospital. She was taking Kenneth's death very hard. She'd been happy and exuberant when she was at Cider Ridge, but she looked like a fragile, shy child at the moment.

  "Miss Simpson." Jackson saying her name seemed to pop Barbara out of a trance.

  "Yes?" she asked as if she hadn't just heard Jackson ask everyone seated at the table the same question.

  "I wonder if you could tell me if you saw or heard anything."

  Barbara tightened the belt on her robe. "I was sleeping. I sleep like a rock. Slept right through an apartment fire when I was a child. Woke up outside on the front lot in my mom's arms and had no idea anything had happened. But I did hear people downstairs. I put on my robe and went down thinking possibly there had been a sighting."

  "A sighting?" Jackson asked.
/>   "Of Lauren Grace, of course," Barbara said plainly.

  "Oh, right." Jackson stood up. "I'm going to go out to the car and get a few things. I need to bag up the letter opener for evidence."

  "The letter opener?" Kitty asked in surprise.

  "I found your letter opener right over there between the two silver chafing dishes," Wilma piped up. "Did you leave it there?"

  Kitty placed her hand on her chest. "Never. I always leave it on Lucy's desk in the kitchen."

  Wilma grinned and nodded at Jackson. "See, I told you so."

  "Yes, yes you did." He stopped before leaving the room. "Has anyone seen or talked to Mr. Nielsen since dinner?"

  Rex nodded. "Just a quick conversation. I was smoking a cigar on the porch. I asked him where he was going. He told me he had errands to run. Seemed kind of late for it but that's what he said. Haven't seen him since."

  I couldn't get a clear sense of what Jackson was thinking but it seemed he had some suspicions about Jamie Nielsen.

  Chapter 29

  Jackson got a call the second he pulled up to my house. He glanced at his phone. "It's the station."

  "You poor man, no one leaves you alone. Don't worry about walking me to the house. I can find my way. Go ahead and take the call. Thanks for the burger and the adventure."

  I was almost relieved not to have him walk me to the door. The entire kiss moment had been ruined by Edward, I was sure it just wasn't meant to be tonight. A shadow on the porch startled me, until Redford's eyes caught the moonlight above.

  "Why on earth are you outside?" I reached the porch and discovered Newman was outside as well. Both looked sheepish and sad as if they'd been up to something or something had frightened them. What was Edward up to now?

  Jackson's car still idled out in front of the house. I heard him drive slowly away as I unlocked the door and went inside. The dogs entered but then sat firmly in the entryway, determined not to go any farther.

  "Edward," I called. "What are you up to? Why are the dogs outside?"

  Edward appeared directly in front of me. I stumbled back a step. "There you are. What have you done to the dogs?"

  Edward stared at me with a perplexed expression. "You were out?"

  "Yes. I just got back and found my dogs outside on the porch."

  He glanced at the dogs. "They are animals, after all, but I assure you I didn't send them out there. But I'm still confused."

  "About what?"

  "If you just got in, then who is shuffling around your bedroom?"

  His question sent a streak of cold fear through me, but I quickly rationalized it. "No wonder the dogs were on the porch, looking like frightened rabbits," I said pointedly to both of them. Ears went down in response. "It must be those blasted raccoons again. They come in through the dog door, and I forgot to shut it before I left."

  I hurried down the hallway and grabbed a spoon and pot from the kitchen to make a clatter. I heard the slightest sound coming from my bedroom as if the raccoons knew they'd been caught and were freezing in place.

  I banged the pot and threw open my bedroom door. A body that was absolutely not a raccoon slammed into me so hard it knocked me back against the hallway wall. I fell hard on my bottom. I caught a glimpse of Jamie Nielsen's eyes as he raced past. He was holding the envelope with the pictures from Lola's Antiques.

  I pushed to my feet and raced after him. For no apparent reason, the lights started flickering on and off in the house. A thud and a grunt followed and I nearly pitched headlong over Jamie, who was splayed face first in the hallway.

  "You can't have those pictures."

  Jamie pushed to his feet, the envelope clutched tightly in his hand. "Ah ha, so they are real. You have a ghost in the house. He's standing right on the porch." He lifted the envelope. "These pictures will make my career. No more hanging out in stupid meaningless societies like Applegate's. He was an actor, not a true talent."

  "Oh, so you're a true talent," I said wryly as I winked at the ghost hovering literally inches from him.

  "Darn right. And with these pictures, I will be at the top of the profession."

  I couldn't let him take them. I lunged for the envelope. He swung his arm in defense. It was big and hard enough to push me back several steps. I leaned over to catch the wind he had knocked from me. My ribs ached from the impact.

  A clamor in the entryway helped me regain my composure. Footsteps pounded the floor. "Sunni!" Jackson's deep voice echoed through the house. Nielsen blanched at the sound of it.

  "In here," I called.

  Jackson deconstructed the scene quickly and immediately understood that Nielsen had not been an invited guest. His face grew tight with anger as he spun Nielsen around, grabbed the front of his shirt and pressed him against the hallway wall. The envelope fluttered to the ground, and I quickly retrieved it. "There better be a good reason that she is holding her stomach, and it better not have anything to do with you."

  Nielsen sealed his mouth in fear.

  "I came in and found him rummaging through my room for this envelope." My words trembled.

  "In that case"—Jackson yanked Jamie's arm around and behind his back—"You are under arrest for breaking and entering—"

  "The back door was unlocked," Nielsen complained.

  Jackson put his mouth closer to Nielsen's ear. "Were you invited in through that unlocked door?"

  "No."

  "Then I'm arresting you for breaking and entering and every other thing I can pin on you. I'll be thinking about the list as I walk you out to the car." Jackson didn't look back as he took Nielsen out the door.

  I needed to sit down. I shuffled to the kitchen and climbed weakly up on a stool. I winced at the pain in my ribs and my tailbone.

  "Should I get you something?" Edward asked as he materialized across the table.

  "No, it's still just the shock."

  I glanced toward the hallway at the sound of claws clicking on wood floors. Both dogs came to sit by me with apologetic smiles. I pet each one on the head. "A tad more bravery might be nice. After all, I named you after two cool Hollywood bad boys."

  "They are just a step above having a cat when it comes to security." Edward looked pointedly at the envelope I'd placed on the table. "I hope it was worth it."

  Red lights flashed in the kitchen window signaling that Jackson had called a squad car to come pick Nielsen up.

  We were alone. I pulled out the pictures and passed them across the table. Edward's long white fingers picked them up. "It's Mary, Mary Richards," he said and passed the pictures back to me. "She lived here long ago with three very annoying children. But I liked Mary. She was one of the few people—"

  "That you communicated with?" I asked. "Like me?"

  "Yes. She was witty too but not nearly as smart." The voices outside drew him to the window. "Perhaps I was too quick to judge him," he said still looking out the window.

  "Takes a big man to admit when he's wrong."

  He swung back around. "I didn't say I was wrong. I said quick to judge. I still had to call him back with my light trick."

  "So you're the reason the lights were going on and off. Thought light flickering was beneath you."

  "This was different. I wasn't trying to scare someone. I thought it would catch his attention before his vehicle was out of view. Seems my plan worked," he said proudly.

  "It did." I got up from the stool to get a drink of water. "Did you make sure he heard you earlier this evening? When we were talking in the kitchen, it seemed he heard your voice. Even mentioned the accent."

  "I don't have an accent. You people have the accents. And no, he should not have heard me."

  "Yet, he did."

  Edward vanished at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Jackson was wearing the cutest amount of concern in his face.

  "Sunni, are you all right?" He walked straight to me and took hold of my hand. The gesture made my heart flutter.

  "Yes, I'm fine, thanks to you." I peered up at him, but i
t took some courage with his closeness and those amazing amber eyes. "You came back."

  "That was because of your clever trick with the lights."

  "Y—yes," I stuttered, "wasn't that clever of me. I'm just glad you got here."

  "What is in that envelope that made Nielsen commit a crime to get to it?"

  Not sure how to answer and feeling too out of sorts to come up with anything plausible, I deftly ignored his question by tossing out one of my own. "Do you think Nielsen did it? Is he the one who pushed Kenneth down the stairs?"

  "They are two unrelated crimes, but if he's capable of breaking into a home and pushing a woman around, then he could just be capable of murder. But it might help if I know what's in the envelope."

  So much for my deftness. "It's just some research about Cider Ridge Inn. I'm gathering information to write up a story about its sordid history. Nielsen was staying here when the envelope arrived and unbeknownst to me, he was reading it over my shoulder. I guess he thought it was information that would bolster the rumor that the house was haunted." I decided it wasn't really a lie. I'd just left out the detail that they were conclusive photos of a ghost. "While we were in the midst of our struggle, he told me he was going to become the head of the paranormal community. He added in a few insults about Kenneth at the same time. I thought that might be significant. He thought poorly of Kenneth's abilities."

  "At the moment, the only thing he's going to need is a lawyer. They're taking him in right now, and since I have him in custody, I'm going to press him about Kenneth's fall."

  My stomach sank to my knees. Surely Jamie was going to tell Jackson about the photos. And who was I kidding? I lied to the man about the contents of the envelope. I hated the thought of Jackson thinking of me as a liar.

  "Um, do I have to press charges for him to be arrested?"

  Jackson squinted down at me, trying to figure out where I was going with this. "Yes."

  "It's just I don't think he meant to hurt me. I was fighting to get the envelope back, and he pushed me away. And I did leave the back door unlocked."