Inn for Murder, page 3
It was Marty, an old family friend of the Amandes. Retired like Stella, Marty often assisted with odd jobs around the inn, including fixing plumbing issues in the rooms. That explained his access to keys. But that didn’t explain what he was doing inside Caleb’s room.
I often found him sharing laughter with Stella while working in the gardens. I had wondered about Marty’s connection with Stella, suspecting more than a casual friendship. Why else would he offer to work so much around the inn for free?
I waited before following him into the room, convinced his visit wasn’t about plumbing. And I was right.
I found Marty, standing by the dresser, sifting through drawers. Clearing my throat made him jump in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his face flushed with embarrassment.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, aiming for a non-threatening tone.
Marty hesitated. “I was just looking for something.”
“Like what?”
“Something the police might have missed.”
“The police cleared everything out yesterday,” I informed him.
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” His nervousness was evident.
“Did you know the guest?” I asked.
“No,” he answered too quickly. “Although I’ve said hi to him in passing.”
“Did you notice anything suspicious that might help the police with their investigation?”
After a moment’s contemplation, Marty said, “Actually yes. I overheard Caleb talking on his cell phone the night before he died. Down in the lobby.”
“With whom?”
“I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he mentioned going out for drinks with someone. That’s why I came to look for clues. I had to try.”
“Did you tell the police?"
“They didn’t question me. I wasn’t around.”
“Well, they should know,” I insisted.
Marty considered it. “You’re right.”
“I know it’s awkward to talk to the police, but it’s important. Whoever Caleb was meeting for drinks might be involved in his death.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll go to the station right now.”
Exiting the room, I extended my palm. After another moment’s hesitation, he handed me the keys, looking somewhat ashamed.
“Just be careful, okay, miss?” he said. “We don’t know who we’re dealing with here.”
CHAPTER 7
I passed Stella trimming the bushes in the gardens as I set off down a different path, making my way towards the gazebo. The air was filled with the harmonious hum of cicadas and a soft rustling of leaves stirred up by the wind.
My steps echoed through the gazebo as I stepped onto the wooden floorboards. A romantic feeling washed over me, and I closed my eyes, letting the gentle breeze play with my hair. When I opened them again, I saw Max in the distance walking towards me. His white dress shirt was untucked over jeans. I’d never seen him outside of his former work suits. His hair was tousled, as if he had just stepped out of bed, which only made him look even more irresistible.
“Hey,” I said, pushing back the nerves bubbling up inside of me.
“Hey yourself,” he said with a grin, making his way up the gazebo stairs to join me.
I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes roamed over my body for a quick moment. I felt a shiver run down my spine as he came up and closed the distance between us.
I thought about telling Max how I encountered Marty in Caleb’s room, about how Marty overheard that phone call from Caleb. But I decided not to. I still didn’t know whether I could trust Max or any of the Amandes. And I couldn’t let my little crush on him get in the way of the facts. Max was still a suspect, to me anyway. The Amandes might still be connected with Caleb’s death somehow. Until I knew more, I couldn’t let Max know I was snooping around.
“We keep meeting like this,” he said.
“Come around often?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
Max leaned against a railing of the gazebo. “Honestly, I just needed to get away from the office for a bit.”
“It’s so relaxing out here.” I felt awkward, not knowing what else to say.
Max’s eyes locked onto mine. “When I’m here, it’s like everything else fades away. It’s just me, the sound of the wind, and the beauty of this place.”
We both stood there, soaking in the tranquility of the garden and the company of each other. Again. Max placed his hand on my shoulder, his touch sending electricity down my spine. For a moment, I thought he was going to lean in and kiss me, but he stepped back.
“I wish I could go hiking today and take the whole day off,” Max said, breaking the spell that had surrounded us. “But I have to stick around. The police are coming again.”
I nodded, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Yeah, I’ll be around if you need me.”
Max said he would leave me to enjoy the gardens and that he had to prepare for the police to come. I sighed as I watched him walk away. I wondered what would have happened if he had kissed me. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I needed to focus on the case, not Max and his intoxicating presence.
As I stood in the gazebo, I thought about Caleb and who he had met for drinks. That person must’ve given him the note. And he or she must’ve known the Amandes too. But what was that drawing on the other side? Even though I had already given it to the police, I did remember what it looked like. A series of lines and two circles. What did it represent? What was Caleb doing in the restaurant cellar with that drawing? Alone. If I had gotten down there when he was alive, what would I find?
Seeing as all of the inn and restaurant staff weren’t coming in, I figured I might as well take a chance and go down to the restaurant myself. Any evidence that might be found could help shed some light on why Caleb was murdered.
I put my hair up in a bun. In the kitchen, Jesse wasn’t around, and I took a couple of disposable rubber gloves. I slipped them on so as not to mess anything up. I went down the stairwell that led to the restaurant, ready to explore. But I had to be quick before the police came.
Once inside the basement, I flipped the light switch on and inspected the restaurant. It was almost exactly like how I’d previously seen it – minus the corpse. As I looked around, I noticed some of the furniture had been moved, but nothing seemed out of place.
I wondered what I was supposed to find. I swept the room once, twice, searching for any clues that could shed light on Caleb’s mysterious death. My eyes landed on a bookshelf tucked away in one corner of the cellar. It was a small shelf full of the crime novels Max liked so much, but what caught my attention were the two lights mounted on the wall above it. They were in the same position and shape as the two circles in the drawing.
CHAPTER 8
I felt a chill rush through my body as the realization hit me. Was this just a stroke of luck? My pulse quickened, and I slowly walked towards the wall, inspecting every detail of the lights with eagerness.
The round lights looked more decorative than functional. In the short time I’d been here, I’d never seen them turned on. But each of them had a small button underneath, barely perceptible. I pressed one. It didn’t turn on. I pressed the other light’s button. That didn’t turn on either. I tried the first one again. Nothing.
I stepped back and looked at it. I turned around to leave, but as I took a step back, the bookcase opened a crack towards me like a door.
A hidden room?
My stomach churned with fear. I was terrified. What if this was the place where the murderer had been hiding?
I hesitated for a moment, but my curiosity eventually got the best of me, and I pushed the bookshelf open with my gloved hands. The “door” creaked and groaned loudly as it opened up into a dark abyss. I was petrified and wondered if I should even proceed. But something inside me told me that I should take a step into the unknown if I wanted to solve Caleb’s murder.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I decided to go for it.
I switched on the flashlight app of my phone. I swung the door open. In an instant, the contents of the room were revealed; a single bare lightbulb swayed from its wire above me. I found the light switch. With a click, the room was illuminated in its entirety.
It was almost too incredible to believe. I had found what appeared to be a hidden wine cellar, filled with ancient wine. There were rows and rows of bottles, some on racks and some sitting on shelves, musty and coated with a thin layer of dust.
I slowly walked through the aisles of glass bottles, gazing upon each one in awe. These were no ordinary wines – all vintage and rare. This was like stumbling upon a treasure trove.
I recognized a bottle of 1961 Chateau Margaux. Was this the wine that was worth thousands? The label was worn and faded, but I could still make out the distinctive emblem of the chateau. It looked authentic.
But then I noticed the cork. It seemed to be crumbling and dry, with little bits of it floating inside the dark wine. That wouldn’t bode well for its taste or integrity.
I tried another bottle, a 1945 Romanee-Conti, with a pristine label and a wax seal over the cork. And many more expensive vintage wines.
As I continued to explore the hidden wine cellar, I noticed a small workshop space tucked away in the corner. I cautiously walked towards it, not wanting to disturb anything.
A large wooden table was cluttered with various tools and equipment. There were rows of test tubes, beakers, and flasks, along with a large machine that resembled a distiller.
It dawned on me what this was. Someone had been duplicating these rare and expensive vintage wines and selling them as the real thing.
I looked around the room, trying to find any evidence that could lead me to the culprit. That’s when I noticed a small notebook lying on the table. I carefully flipped through it, which confirmed what I suspected. It contained detailed notes on the creation of each fake wine, including the types of grapes used, the aging process, and even the temperature and humidity conditions required to duplicate the perfect vintage, not to mention the aroma and notes of each wine, color of the original bottle, as well as other intricate instructions.
Who would go to such lengths to create fake wine? And who would be buying this fake wine? If someone was going to the trouble of producing it, there had to be a demand for it. Caleb must have uncovered this workshop and its illegal activities, and that could explain why he was killed.
This place seemed old and unused for years, so it couldn’t have been the Amandes. Was it the Byrons or the Reynolds?
I took out my phone and took a few photos of the wine racks, the duplication system, some pages of the book. Then I came out of the secret room and closed the bookcase door behind me.
Anxiously, I surveyed my surroundings, making sure I was still the only one in the restaurant. My heart raced as I looked at the clock on one wall. It wouldn’t be long before the police arrived. I had to get out of here or risk being caught.
Only I knew about this hidden room. Should I tell Max? Jesse? Stella? Marty?
No. I should only tell Detective Connor. He was the only person I could trust so far. I just had to get him alone to do so.
When I went into the breakfast area, Jesse and Stella were already there, talking quietly to each other. I quickly took off my gloves and stuffed them in the back pockets of my jeans. Stella was a striking woman in her sixties. Despite her years, she had an almost ethereal beauty, with high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and a cascade of snowy white hair that fell in soft waves around her face.
She hugged me and asked me how I’d slept. We made small talk, and I tried to keep up my pleasant demeanor to cover up the shock of my discovery.
Jesse offered me coffee with his usual easygoing grin. I politely declined and thanked him. Max joined us. As I looked between the two brothers, I felt a twinge of guilt. They had been so kind to me, and I was still suspecting them, and keeping important information about their property from them.
But I was going to tell the detective, and he would tell them soon enough. I walked to the front entrance and looked out the window.
Soon two cars arrived, one a police cruiser, and another an incognito black car.
Detective Connor stepped out of the black car looking handsome in his pressed suit and navy tie. I noticed there was no ring on his finger. I wondered why he was single, before quickly reminding myself it wasn’t the time or place to ogle men. He strode towards the door, his gaze meeting mine through the pane of glass with an intensity that could be read from a mile away.
I rushed out the door and greeted him, telling him there was something I wanted to speak to him about in private, quickly, away from my bosses. He looked at me with a quizzical frown. But he agreed as we moved away from the windows and under some trees where there was more foliage and fewer prying eyes. I couldn’t help but think that this might have been an incredibly romantic spot for any other time. Had I been too single and dateless for too long? I groaned inwardly at myself.
I leaned in as I began to explain. Smelling his cologne was a bonus. “You know that note Caleb McAllister had? It turns out, it was a map.”
Detective Connor’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. He crossed his arms and replied, “Oh really? How do you know this?”
“Because I found a hidden cellar,” I said.
CHAPTER 9
My heart pounded like a raw steak being tenderized by a mallet as I watched Detective Connor and his team descending into the restaurant. He had promised to keep the hidden room a secret while conducting his murder investigation, acting as if he stumbled upon it himself. His stoic demeanor didn’t reveal much, but I trusted him.
I sat back at the kitchen table with the Amandes. Stella, Max, and Jesse all wore somber expressions filled with tension. Their silence and stillness made them seem like statues. To break the oppressive atmosphere, I tried to make conversation.
“You know, I really miss seeing new faces around here,” I said.
“I can’t believe it was only last week that we had that wedding for that couple from Texas,” Jesse said.
“The food was really something, wasn’t it?” I said with a grin. “I mean, those lobster rolls are still stuck in my mind. Delicious!”
Jesse grinned in response. “That’s the first time I made them, on the bride’s request. I think I’ll work them into the lunch menu at some point.”
I noticed Max frowning slightly as he looked between us.
“Fingers crossed we’ll be open again by the weekend,” I said.
“We’ll have to know soon,” Max said. “If we don’t get the go-ahead to reopen by tonight or tomorrow at the earliest, we’ll have to keep sending guests to the other inns.”
Max looked at me with concern etched on his face. I knew what he was thinking. The guests weren’t coming, but the staff still needed to be paid. I didn’t know much about the Amandes’ finances, but it couldn’t be good for business to have murder disrupt it. We had two more weddings booked later this month.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that murder at their business would hurt their finances and possibly ruin them if news got out about Caleb’s death. He was only a tourist to the town. No one seemed to know him in Sierra Hills, and there was no indication of gossip or news reports so far. Which was good for us. But it was a small town. News could spread.
“I’ve been thinking,” Stella chimed in. “If worse comes to worst, maybe we can offer some sort of deal to attract guests back.”
Max nodded in agreement, “That’s a good idea. Maybe like a two-night stay for the price of one or something like that.”
“We can collaborate with the local spa,” I suggested. “We can work with their masseuses and offer some sort of weekend pampering package.”
“That’s a great idea,” Jesse said. “We’ll advertise it on our website and social media pages.”
But Max’s face darkened. “As long as there’s a killer still around, I can’t exactly feel good about guests being back so soon.”
I wanted to comfort him with a hug and tell him that everything was going to be alright, but I held myself back. I did the professional thing and offered a sympathetic look.
Part of me yearned to be part of the action downstairs, though I knew it was for my own good to keep a low profile in this discovery. Anxiously, I fidgeted with the linen tablecloth, then consciously placed my hands on my lap to avoid further rustling of the fabric.
By lunchtime, Detective Connor finally emerged from the restaurant. From the way he looked at me, lingering for a beat too long, I knew he had followed my instructions, and now, his team was down there exploring the mysterious wine cellar accessed through the trap door. He had pushed the first button beneath the left light of the bookcase, then the second beneath the light on the right, and the first one again to open it. I wondered what else they had uncovered beyond what I had already seen.
I held my breath as I waited for him to give me a sign. Of course, I knew he was consciously sealing himself off from me, but I wanted so badly to ask him.
"I need to ask you all something," the detective said, his gaze shifting from Stella, Max, and Jesse, and back to me. He stood over the table, looming in a stance of domination. My palms started to sweat, as if I had done something wrong.
Stella cleared her throat before she spoke. “Of course Detective. What do you need?”
“Did you know about the wine cellar?”
“Yes, of course, we have hundreds of bottles down there.”
“No, not the one you already use as a stock room. The secret one behind the bookcase.”
Max and Jesse exchanged a glance of utter amazement, their eyes widening in surprise. Stella’s mouth fell agape. I watched them carefully, and it was clear that their shock was genuine.
Detective Connor went on to explain the hidden cellar, and how he and his team were able to unlock it thanks to a diagram found on Caleb’s person. Despite his professional demeanor, it was clear that he was excited about this particular discovery, just as I had been.
