Creeps, Cache, & Corpses, page 13
“I’ve got to get back,” said Rianna. “We’re a little short staffed, but if you need anything, you know where you can find me.”
“Thank you,” I said and steered Patricia to the nearest seat.
No one spoke. Waiting would be difficult, so I fished my debit card out of my billfold and ran it through the vending machine. Six bottles of water noisily dropped through the chute.
“Drink,” I said in my best teacher voice as I delivered one to each. All we needed was someone else to suffer from dehydration.
The quiet minutes dragged on, until the door opened, sounding like an explosion. We all turned and took a step in that direction.
TWENTY-FIVE
I’d never seen stoic CJ with red-rimmed eyes, or a face streaked white with tension. Galen rushed him, breathing heavily. CJ reached out and placed his hand on Galen’s shoulder before he collapsed. “She will be alright. She needs her rest and a night of fluids and will be released tomorrow.”
“May I see her, sir?”
CJ shook his head imperceptibly and seemed to think again. “For a moment.” He returned the way he’d come at a steady pace, towing an overeager teen behind him.
Kindra dropped into a chair. Patricia sat next to her and rapidly signed her questions. Kindra answered with deliberateness and a gentle reassuring smile. She grabbed both of Patricia's hands and held them together. “She’ll be fine,” she said carefully and pulled her into a hug.
Jane joined me and looped her arm through mine.
“Rianna said it was probably food poisoning.”
Jane looked at the floor and her eyes crawled back and forth over the same memories I had, searching for something that would have made Carlee ill and no one else. She looked up and her eyes opened wide. “The taffy? She’s the only one who wanted the watermelon ones.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged and wondered again about that Nicki person who made up the rooms, or Lauren who restocked provisions in the dining room, or Edith handing out goodies the first night we’d arrived. “I don’t know if we can find accommodations anywhere else in town but we’re not eating at the inn again.”
Kindra and Patricia sagged into chairs opposite Jane and me. “We’ll head back as soon as Galen returns,” I said gently.
Catching the defiance burning in Kindra’s eyes and her flaring nostrils, I said, “We can’t do anything for Carlee here. Her dad will stay with her, but …” I leaned forward and whispered. “Maybe we can figure out what made her sick.”
“And we want to make sure everything runs smoothly for the memorial,” Jane added. “We can take that off their plate, and we can be available to greet the grands.’’
Patricia said, “Great idea.” Although thirteen months younger than Kindra, she paid rapt attention to what went on around her and understood with more maturity than most adults possessed. She finished off her bottle of water and deposited it in the recycle bin. Kindra followed her lead and we pretended to patiently wait for an update from CJ and Galen.
When the door opened, I jumped to attention. Galen’s cheeks had a touch of color though I could still see deep into his enormous eyes, filled with the residual fear of what might have happened. His hands swung freely at his side and one corner of his lip curled up.
CJ followed, wearing a tight smile. He leaned heavily on his cane, rubbing his thumb over the dog sculpted into gray-and-black resin at the top. “I am staying the night. Expect a call in the morning. Kahula knows about Carlee, and they will most likely appear earlier than expected. Rianna has a breakfast reservation for all of us here in the cafeteria at eight. Get rest.” The truck keys dangled from my fingers. He held out an open palm, and I dropped them in. He reached out, squeezed Galen’s shoulder, nodded, and disappeared through the doors again.
“She said I was a dork.” Galen beamed as we followed the red exit lights into the night. “She told me to be prepared to lose my arm-wrestling title.”
Jane herded the kids, letting them move at a snail’s pace. The locks on her Edge chirped and we climbed inside. Before she turned the key, we all took a huge cleansing breath.
I texted Pete the scant information we had about Carlee and received an immediate response.
Call you as soon as I have a free moment.
The silent ride provided time to pray. With only a thin sliver of moon to get in the way, we gazed at the glittering sky, mesmerized. Jane jammed the Edge into park at the bottom of the hill in front of the inn and one by one we climbed from the vehicle. She pointed out the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Orion, Canis Major, Cassiopeia, and Sirius, which led to a chat about astronomy and astrology.
My phone buzzed. I answered and stepped away, careful not to break into sobs. “Hi, Pete. CJ is staying with Carlee at the hospital tonight. Apparently, she’d not been feeling well and hadn’t told anyone. She was dehydrated, but they have it under control.”
Jane and the kids started up the hill.
“And they think it was food poisoning? Do you need me there?”
I almost jumped all over that with a huge yes, then remembered how tired he looked the last time I saw him—the red rims and dark circles under his eyes, his mussed hair, the sagging wrinkled scrubs—and squelched my selfish answer.
“CJ said she’ll be released tomorrow. I think we’re okay. But I’ll tell him. He’ll probably want to talk to you.” I had a fleeting image of a Frenchwoman hanging on his every word and almost changed my answer.
“He’s calling now. Gotta go.”
“Miss you,” I said to empty air, and my eyes wandered halfway up the hill where the kids and Jane congregated in a small bunch. The inn sat in complete darkness, and I scurried after them.
“Someone’s up there on the porch,” Galen hissed, pointing at the front of the manor. We trudged up the hill, and Patricia was the first to shine her light on the sheriff’s tense face.
He raised his hand in greeting. “I heard about the food poisoning and thought I should get over here as fast as I could. You never know what someone might do with the evidence. No one answered. I figured you were all at the hospital, and I thought I’d wait, but I guess I snoozed a bit. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Your timing is impeccable.” I thought for a moment before guessing correctly. “Rianna told you?” He nodded. “She’s your wife.” He nodded again. “You married up. She’s delightful.”
“I’d like to search the kitchen and dining room,” said Sheriff Zasko. Galen bounded up the stairs. He fitted his key in the lock and opened the door at the same time the sheriff said, “Wait.”
With the door open, I could hear the exasperated barking more easily. I hopped onto the porch and raced in front of Galen so I could find out what had happened to my dog.
I heard another, “Wait,” but couldn’t stop myself. I ran my hand up and down the wall next to the door hoping to brush against the switch but found nothing. The window at the landing let in just enough light for me to see where the stairs began and illuminate the plastic rectangle of the foyer control panel. I took long strides across the wooden floor and flicked the switches. Nothing happened. The lights weren’t merely turned off.
“The power’s out,” I shouted over my shoulder. I flipped on my phone light and mounted the steps two at a time, calling to the dogs, “I’m coming, Mav. Easy, Renegade.” I dug in my pocket and extracted the room key before sailing down the hall. Nails scraped against the door, and this time I didn’t care. I turned the key in the lock and released the barrage of wagging tails and prancing paws. Dropping to my knees put me at just the right height for nuzzling and the tickling tongue-lashing I’d earned, and I giggled.
After a loud pop, the hall light flickered to life, and I wriggled to standing. I ducked inside and grabbed the leashes. “C’mon you two. We’ve got people waiting.”
The dogs, eager for more petting and maybe a treat or two, slalomed down the stairs like seasoned skiers, reminding me I needed to check in with Dad.
By the time I joined them, Jane corralled the exhausted kids and led them to the steps. “Sheriff Zasko turned the power on, but we all need to get some rest.”
“Breakfast at eight. Goodnight,” I said and waved at the slow-moving troop. “I’ll be up soon.”
A short trip outdoors would be in order. I snared the collars on the moving targets, clipped on the leashes, and started for the entry, but Maverick and Renegade had other ideas. They yipped and I couldn’t get them to move. No matter how much I bribed, cajoled, coaxed, and pulled they stayed glued to a spot in front of the living room doors.
I slid the doors apart. “Hello.” No one answered. “See. Nothing.” I hit the switch on the wall and pursed my lips.
Drat. Right again, clever canines. The room had been upended.
Maverick and Renegade bustled inside and dragged me through the chaos. The room was warm, and I unbuttoned my jacket. Instead of the usual roaring fire, however, tiny remains of orange and red embers crackled and dropped through the fireplace grate. A poker handle clattered to the hearth, and I jumped. Feather light ashes drifted into the air. I grabbed the ring at the end of the tool and hung it on the hook, brushing aside dark fur on the ground lest it ignite. Gathering scattered and torn papers littering the floor, I noted the words, “Marital Settlement Agreement” emblazoned across the top. As I shuffled them together, a black, plastic circle slid into my palm. I aligned the pages with the corner of the registration counter, planning to use what I thought might be a lens cap as a paperweight. The dogs wriggled anxiously, so I pocketed the plastic disk as my foot kicked a familiar wooden box. I stooped to pick it up. Jane’s gift to me had finely detailed blue edges. This similar box sported dark green corners. Always one for a puzzle solution, I followed the strange clues on the bottom as I had with Jane’s gift and smiled as the front face slid to the side.
Folded papers exploded from the packed interior. I hastily retrieved them and stuffed them back inside the rectangle, shimmying them back and forth between a stack of envelopes. I secured the lid and took a few steps to the sculpted mantelpiece. Positioning the box at a precise forty-five-degree angle to the back wall, I hoped to draw on my nearly non-existent artistic gene and make it appear as an embellishment. Stepping back to appreciate its placement, something crunched beneath my foot. Shards of bright-pink stick-on fingernail adhered to my shoe. I plucked off the pieces and placed them next to the box. That’s when I detected a deep gouge in the otherwise unmarked finish of the frieze. My thumb brushed away tiny new paint chips and teeny gritty splinters and noticed a second chip chiseled from the surrounding marble apron.
Maverick yipped. I turned and slipped in liquid pooled on the floor near an end table on which lay an empty glass turned on its side. The smoky odor of Scotch wafted in the air. A mountainous sandwich of meats, cheeses, and Lauren’s signature banana peppers perched precariously on a plate.
Following the dogs’ stares, I asked, “Are you hungry? Let’s get a snack.”
Maverick sat. Renegade sat. They wouldn’t budge so I surveyed the rest of the room.
Two pots from among the sea of lilies had tipped over, spilling dirt and white dots of vermiculite on the table. I tidied the mess, stood the flowers upright, and kicked over a purple and white gallon jug of an herbicide. I righted the jug and exposed three pieces of wrapped taffy. I tentatively picked up the candy to transfer to Sheriff Zasko, turned, and gasped.
A balding pate glistened through sparse strands of steel gray and rested against the overstuffed chair in the bay window.
“Good evening,” I said. I took tentative steps, afraid of frightening the sleeping man. “I don’t mean to bother you, but the power’s running again.” I rounded the chair and reached out to wake the man, but my hand stopped in midair.
Sheriff Zasko called from the hallway. “I found the circuit breaker. Everything should be fine now.”
I blinked and hurried to the dogs. Burying my face in Maverick’s neck, I mumbled, “Not by a long shot.”
TWENTY-SIX
I gripped the dogs’ collars and sank to the floor. “Sheriff.” I cleared my gravelly throat and wiped a tear from my eye. “Sheriff,” I said louder.
“What is it now?” He sounded tired and a bit annoyed as he marched through the open doors, brushing cobwebs from his chin and hands, scowling. “They need to clean that basement.” I’m not sure what he saw in my face, but he asked with uncharacteristic gentleness, “What is it, Katie?”
I swallowed what felt like a dust ball the size of a watermelon and couldn’t spit out the words. My teeth chattered, and my finger trembled as I pointed. His eyes did a thorough sweep of the room, coming to rest on the shape seated in the alcove.
Sheriff Zasko advanced around the chair to confront the victim. His features fell. He removed his hat. “Oh, Willy.”
He slapped his hat back on his head and took a deep breath. He retrieved his phone and pushed its buttons. “This is Zasko. I’m going to need a crime scene unit at the White Star Inn.” He listened and, fuming, punched out each word in his answer. “Yes, I’d call a body with a gunshot wound a suspicious death.” He huffed and pocketed his phone.
He took two steps to stand next to me and said, “Katie, we need to get you out of here.” He lent a hand, and I staggered to my feet. I shook my head, trying to erase the image of a dark-red divot in the man’s forehead.
“I’ll get the kids and Jane. We’ll throw everything in our luggage and—"
“I’m sorry to tell you, we got a call from the Chamber of Commerce. They wanted local law enforcement to be aware that all the rooms in town are booked for the beer festival, so we’d be prepared. It’s imperative you and your party remain here.”
“What did you say?” My voice rose. “We can’t—"
“We’ll rope off this area from prying eyes, and I’ll station an officer in the foyer as well.” He barked disgustedly. “Willy’s likely been here the entire time I sat on the porch.” The sadness in his eyes colored them very dark. “You wouldn’t happen to remember the time you left and if you saw anyone?
“The hospital will have Carlee’s admission time. The kids and I followed soon after I told Lauren we were taking Carlee to the emergency room. Rianna might be able to pinpoint the time.” I waited for a response. “Sheriff?”
His thoughts were miles away. He answered, glancing at the ceiling. “Hmmm? Lauren. She still lives out back in the carriage house, correct?”
“I think that’s right.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
I gripped the dogs’ leashes and drew them close. They gazed at me with something akin to understanding. I cleared my throat. “I didn’t see Mr. Zasko right away and didn’t realize it might be a crime scene, so I started to clean up.”
The sheriff scrubbed his face with both hands, groaning, trying to wipe away his obvious frustration. His hands stopped on his chin. “You compromised a second crime scene?” He inhaled dramatically. “What did you touch?”
I took a gulp of air, cataloging a long list of possible transgressions. “I put the divorce papers in a neat pile on the counter and the puzzle box on the mantel.”
His brow crawled to his hairline. “The what? Whose divorce papers? Never mind. I’ll see for myself.”
I held out my hand, exposing the wrapped candy. He scrunched his face in distaste until I said, “Carlee’s favorite are the watermelon flavored taffies. She ate the green, pink, and white ones. I don’t think anyone else did.”
He exhaled and said, “Fingerprints.” I placed the taffies on the registration desk, and he ushered me out the door to the bellow of sirens. “You need to inform Ms. Mackey and Dr. Bluestone. We’ll take fingerprints from everyone in the morning.”
I started to protest.
“We need them to identify who’s been in this room. Even to exclude someone.” He jerked his head toward the stairs.
“But—”
He shook his head, and like the ominous finger-pointing specter of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, he stood unspeaking, directing me to the stairs. I trudged to the landing like a doomed woman on her way to the gallows. I turned and called down, “Sheriff, I think you should check out the puzzle box on the mantel.”
He looked at me hard and long and jabbed his finger upstairs as the sirens ceased.
My hands felt gritty. I smeared fine yellow dust onto my jacket front and finished making my way to the second floor. Jane answered my knock on the door of the girls’ room with a hearty, “Come in.”
Renegade bounded onto the bed and licked Patricia’s face, causing her to giggle. She gently stroked the dog and said, “What’s going on with all the pulsing lights outside the windows?”
I couldn’t very well say nothing. “There was another death.”
All four sucked in air. In answer to who, what, and where, I replied, “Mr. Zasko passed away in the living room, and the sheriff would like us to remain at the inn because there’s really no place else for us to go. The sheriff will post someone downstairs. Are you okay with that?”
Galen threw up his hands. “Like we have a choice.”
They searched each other for understanding and slowly nodded a consensus.
“This is surreal,” said Galen, shaking his head from side to side. “How did he die?” My silence was understood too well. “He was murdered?”
I noted the dread on the sisters’ faces.
“Could we have some canine company tonight?” Renegade nestled next to Patricia.
Kindra pleaded, “Please.” I nodded and she heaved a contented sigh. “It’s late. I’ll call mom again tomorrow. She won’t be too happy, but at least we didn’t find this one. What else can we do?”
