A Knife to Remember, page 9
After the initial shock of running into someone subsided, they still took me aback with how much the man looked like Jeremiah. The only overt difference I could see was how deep the crow’s feet were around his eyes, and his gait was slower.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Turner,” I greeted.
He raised an eyebrow at me, his tone unamused. “Hello, what are you doing here? This isn’t open for business yet. In fact, I’m not even sure it’s going to open for business.”
“Oh, um, we are employees of the resort. I’m a vendor for the Lasts. Mrs. Last asked me to come check out the project. She wanted to know what else needed to be completed before opening in two days,” I said, trying to keep an even keel in my tone as I made up the story on the spot.
Liam raised an eyebrow at me.
“Well, I just talked to Richard, and he was saying they might just have it torn down,” Mr. Turner said skeptically.
“Yes, well, you know how some married couples can be,” I joked. “Mrs. Last was adamant the work on the house continue and it open on Halloween. She seems to think there will be an even bigger draw seeing all the deaths we’ve had this—” I trailed off, realizing I just lumped his son’s very recent death in with the other ones as a marketing tool for the project his son had been building.
Mr. Turner sighed. “Go on. I know how business works, young lady. It would be but a fool’s errand not to publicize this place with such a recent murder… string of murders, in fact.”
I nodded, trying to move the lump in my throat.
“Sorry about my comment, sir,” I managed finally. “I didn’t mean to be crass.”
He shrugged. “I’m not a fool. I know what kind of man my son was. I know how horribly he treated people. It’s honestly surprising no one had murdered him sooner.”
I felt my eyes go wide.
He chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure that comes as a shock, but I do not mourn the man who was, but the man who could’ve been had he had just a sliver of dignity and respect. It’s just too bad I didn’t get to speak with him before he passed. I was even here.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, surprised. “When did you get to the resort?”
“Richard called me several nights ago, telling me he was being a nuisance.” He sighed. “I came out here to give him an ultimatum—grow up or get cut off.”
“But you didn’t have a chance to see him?”
He shook his head. “No, indeed I did not. I got here that evening and I was too exhausted from the travel to deal with my son when I arrived.”
I nodded, understanding what he meant.
“Anyway, if Nora wants this place ready in time for Halloween, then she’s going to need to hire another contractor to help my general contractor,” Mr. Turner told us, returning to the business at hand.
I grinned. “That is why I brought him. He is the contractor Nora is hiring.”
He nodded. “Excellent. Here is the man’s number. You can set up times and such with him.”
Liam took the card Mr. Turner was offering him. “Thank you, sir.”
He nodded again and then left us inside the creepy house, making his way back toward Mia’s.
We waited until we could no longer see him walking out the front door before heading into the living room and discussing.
“So he was here the day his son died,” Liam stated.
I nodded. “And it sounds like he was supposed to have a very constructive talk with him, one that probably would’ve ended in a fight.”
“Yeah. Do you think he could have done it though? I’m not sure he would murder his own son.”
I shrugged. “I’m not really sure, but that gives us another suspect to throw to the detective. It’ll help get Roxie off the suspect list, at least.”
“He didn’t seem too broken up about him being dead, either.” Liam noted, sounding a little concerned.
“Can you blame him though? Not only was his son a disappointment, but he was a total nuisance to society as a whole. Plus, I bet there were a lot of botched business deals, thanks to Jeremiah and how he conducted himself.”
“That’s a good point,” Liam conceded.
“Okay, back to clue finding,” I said, finally releasing Liam’s arm and looking around the haunted living room. “So, there was someone singing in this room when Hazel and Roxie came by.”
“There’s a little handheld radio over here,” Liam announced. “Maybe he was working on the wall over here. It also looks like there’s blood on it.”
I looked around at the space. “There is dried ‘blood’ everywhere. I have no idea if it’s real or fake.”
“Probably fake,” Liam said. “I think this radio was put here to pump in some of the room specific sounds. Besides, we didn’t find a trail of blood, so Jeremiah probably wasn’t killed in here.”
I nodded. “Right. And we also aren’t sure Jeremiah was the only one in here singing.”
A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about it. If someone had killed Jeremiah and then spent some time in the haunted living room singing, they would be slightly deranged, and that was putting it lightly.
“Okay, I think that’s all we have to do, right?” I asked, looking around warily at the giant spider hanging over my head. Luckily it was still daylight, that helped cut down on the creepy a tad bit.
Liam fought back a smile and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders again, and we headed back to Mia’s. As we passed the spot where Jeremiah was found, something silver glinted in the afternoon light. I stopped, and unwrapping myself from Liam, went over to find out what it was. It was a silver teardrop earring. It was really nice and made of sterling silver. I grabbed the tissue from my pocket, picked it up, and put the whole thing back into my pocket.
“What was that?” Liam asked.
“An earring,” I told him, wrapping my arms back around him. “It might be nothing. It might be something. And it might be the nail in Roxie’s coffin.”
“Why’d you say that?” he asked.
“Because I know I’ve seen this earring on someone before. I just don’t remember who.”
14
“Okay, so you need to call Roman and tell him that you’re going to be working as a contractor,” I said, as he pointed the pickup toward home. “And then you can talk to him about the paint prank.”
“Oh, so we’re going through with this whole contractor charade?” Liam asked, giving me a cheeky smile.
I shrugged. “Well, you can build stuff, can’t you?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know I can. Half of the stuff in your cabin is a Liam Brown original.”
I grinned. “Exactly. And you love haunted houses. Why wouldn’t you do this?”
“Because I’m not actually a contractor.”
“Yeah, but with Roman’s supervision, you’ll be fine. I believe in you.”
“All right, but I’m going to tell them the truth that I’m not actually a contractor.”
“But then he’s gonna be like, then why are you working with me? Just tell him they couldn’t find any other contractors on such short notice. Besides, I’m sure any help Roman gets on the haunted house will be helpful. I don’t think that Jeremiah did anything to get this place set up.”
Liam drove us home quickly. He’d called Roman, who was anxious to continue work on the haunted house, especially after learning he’d get to work with Liam.
When we arrived at the cabin, he put the truck in park and slid out, heading over to my side of the truck as fast as his long legs would take him without running.
I laughed as he helped me down from the truck, the way he always did. It was a cross between feeling like a princess and an old decrepit lady with bad hips.
“Go,” I instructed once my feet hit the ground.
“Thanks.” He grinned, kissing my head.
“I feel like you’re forgetting this was my master plan.”
He shrugged. “I hate to admit it, but I’m really excited about working on the house. Roman was telling me some of the things that need to be done and it’s going to be soooo good.”
I laughed. “Go change then. I’ll see you later tonight.”
He kissed me again, this time on the mouth, and then bounded up the front steps like a rambunctious golden retriever puppy.
I reached back into the truck and pulled out my backpack, checking to make sure the file on my dad was still in there. I don’t know why I was afraid it would disappear, but the anxiety was sitting in my chest until I touched the papers.
I closed the door with a dull thunk and headed toward the porch. The door closing must’ve caught my boy’s attention, because Doodle came sprinting out of the house and jumped halfway up my body.
I swooped down and picked him up, snuggling his warm fluffy body to my face. Almost immediately I pulled my face away, my face involuntarily making ‘yuck’ lines around my mouth and eyes.
“Why do you smell like a rotten cabbage that’s been rolled in gone sour cheese?” I asked, afraid of what he’d decided to roll in while outside.
Doodle chuffed, then wiggled and had me put him down. He ran behind the house, but before making the turn, he stopped and waited for me to follow him.
When he was satisfied I was coming, he rounded the corner. I too, rounded the corner and found Doodle nose to nose with a skunk.
“Oh, no,” I groaned.
The skunk did not like my dog being so close to its face and it turned, in what seemed like slow motion, but there was no way for me to stop what was going to happen. The skunk let loose its horrible, awful stink-filled spray right in my Doodle’s face.
Doodle for his part seemed surprised, though I was pretty sure it had already sprayed him, and sneezed several times, each time hopping backward a bit.
The skunk ran off, thankfully away from me.
Doodle, once done sneezing, came bounding back toward me in his ‘isn’t this a fun game, Mom’ manner. So much for the quiet evening making shoes I’d been hoping for. I was going to have to scrub my dog down with the super-charged solution some chemist created to get the smell out.
“You’re lucky I love you so much,” I told him. “Otherwise, I’d just leave you outside for tonight.”
Doodle chuffed at me.
I rolled my eyes. Then I bent down and gingerly clipped Doodle to his leash so I could put my stuff away and change before having to deal with Stinky McGee.
I made it back to the front porch just as Liam was coming back out of the cabin in a pair of old jeans and a shirt that’d seen better days.
Liam stopped when he saw my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Doodle just got skunked.” I sighed.
Liam made a yuck face. “I can stay if you want.”
“No, you go. This isn’t the first time my furball has gotten sprayed,” I told him. “I can handle clean-up duty.”
He kissed my forehead. “Thanks, I’ll be back later.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too,” he said, kissing me again. Then he went down the stairs and left.
I watched him pull out and head back the way we came before turning inside to make the Stink Begone Potion for Doodle. As I turned, something shiny and silver caught my eye. I focused in on it and found that it was a knife, pinning a note to the floor of the porch like someone had thrown it into the wood.
I bent down, pulling it out, my insides bubbling with nervous energy. My hands shook as I picked up the note. The letters were painted in fake blood, and the person who left it must have done so recently, because some of the paint was still tacky.
I unfolded it.
It read:
* * *
I’m watching you, Little Miss Detective. I know what you’re up to and who you’re talking to, and you better keep your nose out of my business before you or one of your friends gets hurt. That would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Leave it alone.
I inhaled deeply, forcing my heart rate to slow back down and fighting the urge to go hide in the closet until Liam got back home.
“No, Roni. You chose to pursue the murderer to free Roxie of suspicion. You aren’t going to let someone intimidate you into running away. Roxie needs you,” I scolded myself. I looked down at the note again. “Besides, this means you’re talking to the right people.”
15
I spent the next hour cleaning my dog and then myself, ridding us both of skunk stink. The hot shower water beating down on me helped me to recalibrate my senses and effectively helped me to chill out from my latest death threat.
Yes, this had happened before. Three times in fact. It probably would’ve been four if my friends hadn’t made me take a back seat in interviews during the last murder.
Once clean, I made myself a packet of Swiss Miss. I considered adding the packet straight into some coffee, my favorite way to drink coffee when I was looking for something to comfort my soul, but I didn’t like the idea of being up all night, so I stuck to water.
It was not nearly as soul satisfying as Jade’s hot cocoa was, but it was comforting all the same. I tucked myself into my bed, Doodle tucked in next to me, and reached for the file Graham printed out for me.
I pulled the file onto my lap and sat there just holding it, almost frozen to the spot.
“Doodle?” I asked. “Was Gramps murdered?”
Doodle’s head shot up when I said Doodle’s name for my dad. Then he tilted his head at me and chuffed.
My chin hit my chest, then just to make sure I said, “Gramps was murdered?”
This time Doodle yipped at me.
“My dad was killed?” I asked one final time, trying to see if maybe he was just responding to the name Gramps.
Again he yipped, this time breaking out of our cozy little bubble and running in a circle three times, just to make sure I really got it this time.
“Okay,” I said, sitting back against my pillow, a lump in my throat so large it refused to move until my eyes welled with tears and released them down my cheeks, letting out a choked sob. There was an odd mix of relief and terror trapped in my body, each one fighting for prime Sunday space.
I don’t know how long I cried but I do know that I wasn’t able to silent cry, so it wasn’t surprising when Angie came busting into my room, hands on hips like some backyard version of Wonder Woman, if Wonder Woman was a five-foot seven ginger with intense curly hair.
“All right, who do I need to kill?’ she asked, coming into the room.
It was an awfully familiar way for Angie to greet me and it immediately made me laugh, so then I was laugh-crying. Anyone who has experienced this phenomenon knows it is a strange mix of deep appreciation for the love being shown, and the deep pain of feeling lost and alone, all at the same time.
Currently, I was grateful that even though she was mad at me, she still loved me enough to threaten bodily harm to whoever hurt me, but I was also stuck in the hell of knowing my father was killed at the hands of someone else. Someone had stolen time I should have gotten to spend with him, and that cut deep and bled openly.
“Right,” she sighed, waving at me to scoot over so she could climb into the bed with me.
I obliged, and she climbed in.
“What’s wrong?”
I wiped my face. “There’s some stuff going on that you don’t know.”
“Like what?”
“Firstly, I got my first threat for this case,” I sighed, pointing to the knife and note I’d placed on my dresser.
She got out of the bed and grabbed the note from the dresser, careful not to touch the knife. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t you call Graham?”
“Because I knew how both of you would react, seeing as this has happened before,” I told her. “Besides, it just means that I’m on the right track for who the killer is. If I wasn’t close, they wouldn’t be bothering me, now would they?”
Angie shook her head. “They’re threatening the people you love now too. This is ridiculous. This is why I didn’t want you getting mixed up in this nonsense to begin with.”
“I know, but like I told you before, I’ve gotta help get Roxie out from under this. I mean, it’s not even just about her. You know how people talk. The reputation of Sole Mates is on the line here too.”
Angie raised an eyebrow at me. “I think you’re stretching that just a little far. I don’t see how Roxie’s association with the shop has anything to do with its reputation.”
“I hired her. I’m responsible for her even being here. If she goes to jail for this murder, you know people are going to talk about how I only hire criminals or something ridiculous like that.”
She sighed. “Fine, I’ll help you with the case. I don’t want you losing your shop because of social drama.”
“Really?” I asked, feeling a grin creep onto my face.”
“Don’t get too excited over there,” she said, sitting back on the bed. “I’m only doing it to try any hurry this process up. I don’t want more fodder for your nosiness.”
“I’m not nosy,” I complained.
“Yes, you are, but it’s part of the reason I love you so. If you weren’t so nosy, I’d never tell anyone why I’m mad, and then I’d be a big ball of rage all the time.”
I laughed. “Not sure that’s true, but I guess I’ll take it.”
We were quiet for a minute before Angie asked, “So, what’s the real thing that is bothering you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t act dumb with me. I know you and there’s something more than this note. You’re barely even concerned with this note. Besides, when you started the conversation you said first, which means there’s at least a second.”
I sighed. “Sometimes I hate how observant you are.”
She shrugged. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“All right, Adrian Monk.” I rolled my eyes. “I had my counselling session today, and the doc thinks that I might be so focused on solving these murders that keep popping up because of how Dad died.”
“What?” Angie asked, confused. “Poppy died of a heart attack. He wasn’t murdered.”
