Inn for Murder, page 7
“I guess I can check more social media sites.”
Max patted me on the shoulder as he left.
“Good luck.” Jesse winked.
Alone, I settled into my seat, determination filling me. Max’s words bolstered my confidence.
I thought about what Nancy had said about her elusive uncle. I realized he wouldn’t easily disclose his whereabouts, even to family. She hardly traveled, so she wouldn’t have visited him. They didn’t sound close at all. Nancy made it seem as though he appeared in town randomly whenever it suited him.
“The last time could’ve been Caleb’s murder,” I muttered. “He’d probably long skipped town by now.”
I considered returning to The Lilac Salon to ask Nancy more questions under the excuse of getting a blowout. John Glenn held the key, but revealing my suspicions about her uncle felt awkward. Was I supposed to tell her I seriously suspected that her uncle was a thief and killer? Would that make her help me? Maybe she would help the police. And the police, particularly Detective Connor with his authoritative presence, could make her talk.
As I reached for the office phone, hesitation set in. No, I wanted to talk to Detective Connor in person. Not because he had mesmerizing green eyes—my intentions were purely professional. Besides, we had more privacy at the police station.
With newfound energy, I practically skipped to my room to get my purse... and put on some lip gloss.
However, just as I was about to enter, something on the floor caught my eye. A neatly folded piece of paper lay before me. I crouched down to pick it up, unfolding it carefully, wondering who it was from.
The note was written in a deliberate, blocky script, sending a shiver down my spine:
“STOP THE INVESTIGATION IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE.”
It was written on the inn’s stationery.
CHAPTER 17
I clutched the rough paper, each word carving itself into my mind. My breaths quickened as I frantically looked around the room. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I struggled to control my fear. Who in this inn could possibly know about my investigation?
Was this person a new arrival, or had they been here all along, surreptitiously watching me? Could it possibly be John Glenn himself, hiding in plain sight?
A sense of being watched crept over me, as if a pair of unseen eyes were boring into the back of my neck.
My eyes scanned the room, seeking any clues of intrusion or disruption. Could someone have broken in during the short hour I was away? My gaze landed on the window and I hurried over to inspect it. It remained firmly locked, without any evidence of a break-in.
The killer must have just slipped the note under the door.
Or they could still be lurking in the room, hiding under the bed or inside the closet. Or worse, they could be waiting outside, biding their time for me to make a move.
Maybe investigating on my own had been a terrible idea. I was an amateur. I should prioritize my safety above everything else. Perhaps I really should end my investigation. This was not worth putting my life at risk.
The memory of Caleb’s lifeless body flashed in my mind. How the fate of the inn had hung in the balance, employees risking being out of work. The killer was still at large, a danger to everyone here. I couldn’t leave, not with so much at stake.
“Be brave, Sophie,” I whispered to myself.
I took a deep breath. Whoever left the note wanted me to be afraid, to give up. But I wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. If someone was threatening me to stop investigating, it meant that I was getting too close to the truth.
With shaking hands, I opened my closet door, ready to punch someone if they sprang out.
Nothing but my clothes.
I checked under the bed.
Nothing but dust balls.
The killer wasn’t here. I was safe in this room. For now.
I found Detective Connor’s business card on one of the night stands to call him, pacing my small room feeling like a caged bird. I dialed the personal cell number that was on the card.
“Detective Connor,” his deep voice answered, offering an odd sense of comfort.
“Detective, it’s Sophie,” I stammered. I struggled to find my words as I frantically told him about the note and the possible presence of the killer in the inn. “Can you please send someone over?”
“Stay calm, Sophie,” he instructed, concern lacing his tone. “I’m on my way. In the meantime, be close to the brothers and don’t go anywhere alone.”
“Thank you, Detective,” I whispered, my voice quivering. I ended the call and rushed out, wanting to be around Max and Jesse.
As soon as I opened the door, a dark figure materialized in front of me, barring my way. He was about average height, dressed entirely in black with a ski mask concealing his face. My heart raced and my mouth turned dry with terror. The killer had found me.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to remain strong. “What do you want?”
“Your silence,” the figure hissed, their voice distorted low to hide their identity. “You’re getting too close to the truth, Sophie.”
My mind raced, searching for a way out of this life-threatening situation. I snatched the lamp from the bedside table and flung it at the figure with all my might. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room.
I lunged forward, my hand snatching a shard of glass from the broken lamp. With trembling fingers, I brandished it like a makeshift dagger, trying to project confidence in my voice as I warned, “Stay back!”
The figure sneered, unfazed by my makeshift weapon. “What then?” they challenged.
“I’ll scream louder,” I replied, my eyes brimming with tenacity. “This place has ears, you know. Help!”
The commotion caught the attention of the Amandes brothers. I heard their hurried steps echoing down the hallway towards my room. In a moment of chaos and distraction, I seized the opportunity to slip past the intruder and make my escape to Max and Jesse.
“Jesse, get him!” Max commanded. They both charged after the man in the ski mask.
From my spot in the hallway, I could hear the scuffle and struggle as Max and Jesse fought with the intruder. The sound of fists connecting with flesh reverberated through the walls, punctuated by grunts of exertion and pain. For a split second, I hesitated, uncertain if I should go back and join in the fight. But it was two against one, and the masked man seemed to be unarmed. He didn’t stand a chance against them.
But out of nowhere, the intruder broke free from Max’s grip and charged towards Jesse. Reacting with lightning speed, Jesse evaded the attack and landed a devastating punch to the intruder’s jaw, knocking him off balance. Seizing the opportunity, Max swiftly tackled the intruder to the ground, subduing him.
Jesse stepped forward, landing a powerful kick to the intruder’s ribs. The intruder let out a loud grunt of pain before going momentarily still. Max quickly took advantage of this opportunity, pinning the intruder to the ground and delivering a final blow that rendered him unconscious.
Swiftly snapping out of my shock, I frantically dialed 9-1-1. I knew Detective Connor was still on the way, but I had to do something. I hoped Max and Jesse weren’t hurt. They had saved my life.
CHAPTER 18
Detective Connor’s polished leather shoes clicked against the wooden floorboards as he strode into the inn. Two policemen followed him inside. I saw his intense green eyes scanning the area, then resting on my trembling figure on the staircase.
“Detective Connor, thank goodness you’re here,” I said. “The killer… he’s inside one of the guest rooms!”
“Which room?” Detective Connor asked.
“My room. Room 23.”
The detective ran up the stairs with his colleagues. I followed closely behind. My nerves were rattled, but I wanted to see who the killer was.
Jesse and Max were still in my room, tying the intruder up with the cord that was used to tie the window curtains.
They had pulled the ski mask off the intruder and I gasped when I saw who he was.
Marty Johnson. His once neat and tidy white hair was now a mess. His eyes slowly blinked, going in and out of consciousness.
“Marty?” I couldn’t believe it.
Even Detective Connor seemed taken aback. “Marty Johnson!” he exclaimed.
“Do you know him?” Max asked.
“Just that he’s a retired businessman.” Detective Connor replied. “Does lots of charity work. Never caused any problems.”
We stared at Marty in disbelief. I wondered how Stella would handle this news.
Marty’s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze landing on the faces hovering above him. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he tried to sit up but the ropes around his wrists and ankles held him tightly in place.
“What’s going on?” he groaned, struggling against his restraints.
Detective Connor leaned forward, his voice unwavering and controlled as he read him his Miranda rights.
Marty’s eyes widened in disbelief and shock as he listened. But then a self-realization seemed to set in.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did you do it?”
“It wasn’t my intention,” Marty explained. “We had a fight, and I may have gotten carried away.”
“You think?” Max muttered.
Detective Connor arched an eyebrow. “What was the cause of the altercation?”
Marty looked at the detective, the policemen, the Amandes brothers, and me, holding his note, and sighed.
“I had overheard him talking to Stephen Reynolds outside the inn. I guess he was old friends with Caleb. Stephen and Caleb had a lunch in town or something and Stephen dropped Caleb off back in front of the inn. Before he drove off, he lingered around for a smoke and asked Caleb to do something for him. I was helping Stella prune the front garden, and the bushes hid me well, but I was able to hear most of what they were saying. Stephen wanted to check if there was still this room in the restaurant in the basement. A hidden room. He wanted to see if there were still a bunch of wine in there. I heard him say the names of a bunch of wines, and from what I knew, they were some of the most expensive wines out there.
“He handed Caleb a map and whispered to him how to access it. I didn’t hear that part, but I thought it was exciting, how there was a room with all these rare wines. So I followed Caleb around. Finally, when the inn cleared of guests having lunch, I saw him head downstairs. I knew there would be no one else down in the restaurant, so I followed him. I didn’t have a plan, exactly, I just wanted to see the wines. But Caleb noticed me, and he demanded to know what I was doing down there. I told him that I heard about the note, and I wanted to see the wines too, but Caleb got angry. He wouldn’t let me see the map! I tried to grab it from him. He pushed me. So we got into a fight. I didn’t mean mean to choke him to death, I really didn’t…”
Marty broke into a sob.
“But the wines are fakes,” I said.
“What?” Marty looked up at me.
“It was a room to forge expensive wine.”
“So there wasn’t anything expensive in there?”
“No,” Detective Connor said. “Someone would’ve taken the expensive wines when the Reynolds sold this place. I’m surprised they left the room as it was though.”
“Maybe he wanted to start up on the business again,” Jesse suggested. “Just in case he needed to.”
Detective Connor looked Marty in the eye. “Was it worth it?”
Marty was still sobbing. “I was just looking for a bit of adventure. I was so bored in my retirement. A secret room full of expensive wines was something I wanted to take a peek at.”
“And steal the wine?” the detective said.
Marty looked down. He didn’t answer.
“Why did you threaten me?” I shook the note in the hand.
He looked up at me. “When I found out you three were digging into things, I panicked. I just wanted to scare you.”
I shook my head. What an amateur. He was a terrible criminal.
Max looked at me and then narrowed his eyes at him. “I hope you got the adventure you were looking for.”
“Stella,” Marty moaned to himself, his voice thick with emotion. “Tell your mother I never meant for any of this to happen. It was all an accident!”
Marty had ruined his chances with Stella forever.
Detective Connor told us that he had looked into John Glenn already, based on what he could gleam from the papers and notebooks he found in the hidden wine duplication room. Glenn was long gone. Definitely changed his name. Disappeared without a trace.
He was more than likely the person who was making the fakes for the Reynolds. Given his connections, he probably went abroad to sell it. At some point his business partnership with the Reynolds soured. They owed him money, and in turn, he must’ve taken all the real wine. He didn’t really need the Reynolds other than the hidden room they provided, so he struck out on his own. Maybe he was still out there somewhere making fake wine.
The Reynolds siblings, still deeply in debt, reluctantly put the inn up for sale. With their meager profits, they retired to a quiet life, hoping to make ends meet. None of the townspeople had heard from them since they left. Maybe they went into hiding too. Maybe Stephen came to town just to catch up with his old friend Caleb, and curiosity prompted him to visit the inn, but he probably didn’t want to step inside or explore the property in case he ran into his old employees who would recognize him.
The Wildflower Inn definitely had a fascinating history. The police had cleared out all the evidence in the hidden cellar, and now we were left with an extra room.
“What do we do with it?” Jesse asked.
After a moment of contemplation, I spoke up. “We should use it for a similar purpose, but without any unethical dealings. We could turn it into a wine cellar for rare and exquisite wines.”
Max nodded approvingly. “That’s a great idea.”
Jesse grinned. “I can see it now. ‘The Glenn Cellar’.”
“The Glenn Cellar at the Wildflower Inn. It has a nice ring to it.” I said, chuckling.
“There’s no way we’re going to call it that,” Max said.
We all laughed.
CHAPTER 19
The once chaotic atmosphere of the inn had finally settled back into the familiar routine I used to adore. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, along with the gentle hum of conversations between contented guests enjoying their breakfast. The sturdy wooden tables were surrounded by plush chairs invitingly beckoning visitors to sink in and savor a hot latte or cocoa.
I made my way to the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee, relishing in its welcoming scent as I indulged in each sip. My gaze swept over the room, finding comfort in the sight of familiar faces who had come to call this inn their home away from home.
I smiled. Everything was as it should be. I finally felt at home in this cozy inn.
I spotted a vacant table next to the wide-open window and made my way over, taking in the serene garden views. The melodious chirping of birds and gentle rustling of leaves provided tranquil background noise. But Stella’s presence caught my attention. She hauled a tray of scrumptious cinnamon rolls and piled them onto a large plate on the breakfast buffet table.
“Need any help?” I asked.
“No dear. You enjoy your breakfast before your shift starts.”
I smiled as I watched Stella, her white hair framing her face like a halo. The mischievous sparkle had returned to her blue eyes after the recent events involving her friend Marty. Something in the way she moved told me that she was going to be okay.
After returning the tray to the kitchen, she took a seat across from me at the table. Without any prompting, she began opening up about Marty and everything that had happened between them. I could see the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface as she spoke.
“Never would have guessed he was the one behind it all.” Stella shook her head.
“Did you know him well?” I asked.
“Not really,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “He started coming around more often after we bought the inn. We thought he was just a regular and let him help out. He never asked for any money. His wife died four years ago...poor guy must’ve lost his way without her.”
I shook my head too, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Marty, of all people, had been the criminal we’d been searching for.
Initially, Marty appeared friendly enough, however I should have been more wary when I saw him sneaking into Caleb’s room. He had too much access to the inn as an unofficial employee. I had thought it was okay because I assumed he and Stella were dating.
However, I wondered why did he feel the need to enter after committing the heinous act of murder? Wasn’t that enough? I asked Stella.
“He was stealing,” she said, her voice trembling with dismay. “I caught him red-handed once, taking an expensive belt from the lost and found bin. At first, I wanted to believe it was a mistake, that he just liked the belt and assumed no one was going to claim it. But then I started noticing things. Guests would come and report missing items from their rooms—combs, souvenirs, you name it. And I couldn’t shake off the suspicion that Marty was responsible.”
“He must’ve been really bored in retirement,” I said. “He sounds like a teenager learning the thrill of shoplifting for the first time.”
“I wanted to fire him. Well, he wasn’t on the payroll, but I wanted to tell him to stop coming around, but he seemed to have nothing better to do, so I felt sorry for him. I was working up the nerve to confront him about the stealing, but then the murder happened. If I had only found the guts to tell him to leave, this tragedy could’ve been avoided.”
I reached out to squeeze Stella’s hand, offering her what little comfort I could. “Don’t blame yourself, Stella. The man was dangerous.”
“I was the one closest to him. I should have been more aware.”
