Resort to Murder, page 1
Resort to Murder
#2 in the Grant’s Crossing Series
by
Jamie Tremain
2022
Resort to Murder
Grant’s Crossing Series
Book #2
Copyright © 2022 by Jamie Tremain
FIRST EDITION
Published January 31 2022
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
For more information, address: jamietremainJT@yahoo.com
www.jamietremain.ca
Cover Design by Jennifer Gibson – www.JenniferGibson.ca
Also by Jamie Tremain
Dorothy Dennehy Mystery Series
The Silk Shroud
Lightning Strike
Beholden to None
Grant's Crossing
Grant's Crossing - Death on the Alder
Resort to Murder (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Jamie Tremain’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Jamie Tremain
Resort to Murder (Grant's Crossing, #2)
CHAPTER ONE | Alysha
CHAPTER TWO | Dianne
CHAPTER THREE | Alysha
CHAPTER FOUR | Dianne
CHAPTER FIVE | Alysha
CHAPTER SIX | Dianne
CHAPTER SEVEN | Alysha
CHAPTER EIGHT | Dianne
CHAPTER NINE | Alysha
CHAPTER TEN | Dianne
CHAPTER ELEVEN | Alysha
CHAPTER TWELVE | Dianne
CHAPTER THIRTEEN | Alysha
CHAPTER FOURTEEN | Dianne
CHAPTER FIFTEEN | Alysha
CHAPTER SIXTEEN | Dianne
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | Alysha
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | Dianne
CHAPTER NINETEEN | Alysha
CHAPTER TWENTY | Dianne
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | Alysha
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | Dianne
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | Alysha
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | Dianne
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | Alysha
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX | Dianne
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN | Alysha
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT | Dianne
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE | Alysha
CHAPTER THIRTY | Dianne
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE | Alysha
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Acknowledgements
We’d like to thank Linda Melnyk, and Carol Grey for suggesting Roxy and Ryker, respectively, as names for the two crias born in this book.
And huge thanks to our beta readers for their invaluable feedback and suggestions – Carol, Gloria, Michele, and Rebecca.
CHAPTER ONE
Alysha
“Look at this, Alysha! They’ve found a body on the grounds of the new spa!”
I’d been enjoying a peaceful breakfast with my partner, Jeff Iverson, contemplating the day ahead of me. My thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he rustled our local morning paper in front of my face.
“It says here that one of the servers at the restaurant was killed after the premises closed last night. His body was discovered after an anonymous phone call. The police are not commenting on their investigation. And everything there is closed until further notice.” He laid the paper down and pretended to sulk. “So, there goes our couples’ massage you promised me, at least until it opens again.”
I pulled the paper towards me and shuddered at the headlines. A suspicious death had been my welcome when I returned to Grant’s Crossing just over a year ago. Deja vu chills ran down my arms. “Not again? This is too close to home. Give me a minute to regroup, babe.”
I pushed away from the table and walked out onto our small balcony.
Most days Jeff and I enjoyed breakfast in the dining room with the other Leven Lodge residents where we lived, but this morning we’d decided to have a private first meal of the day in our own space. And it had been peaceful until he had read the local paper.
I had inherited Leven Lodge the previous year from my Uncle Dalton Grant. My family, the Grants, had owned this property, and the nearby sawmill, for many years. The will’s conditions stipulated that I’d be taking on active seniors to live out their golden years and deal with a herd of alpacas. Jeff had been eager to embark on this new adventure with me, and within a short space of time, we had grown into our respective responsibilities. I dealt with the residents and their needs, and Jeff had taken on the care, and breeding, of the alpacas. We were grateful to have on staff an amazing housekeeper, Jan Young, along with a cook, and handyman.
Our apartment at the top of the renovated farmhouse was a sanctuary. I plunked myself down in my favourite chair and gazed over the fields and meadow past the barns. The sun was up, but lingering thunderclouds promised another unsettled summer day. The serenity of the view eased my anxiety that the headlines had produced.
I called back into the living room. “Come out here and join me with your coffee. Does the article provide any more details?”
He didn’t need another prompt and came out with a fresh cup of coffee for me. He talked as he settled himself opposite. “The cops, as usual, are not saying much because they’ve just started their investigation.” He drank and then put his mug down. The news had upset me but had put him in a reflective mood. “You know, I’m still disappointed that the casino was canceled there.”
The potential of a casino coming to Grant’s Crossing had been a bone of contention with us last year. Jeff had been all for it. I hated the idea, along with most of the lodge’s residents. But I tried to remain sensitive to his disappointment. Men and their egos!
“I know, babe. But things usually work out for a reason, right? I think having a new restaurant with a spa and small resort is a great compromise. You’ll still have tourists coming to town. It’s not exactly a roadside diner. Anyone staying over at the resort will have money to spend. So, focus on your ideas for our Leven Lodge market stall.”
He smiled and I knew the wheels were turning. Jeff and the alpacas. He loved those creatures and I had to admit he recognized a profitable business venture built around them.
I’d never let on, to him, how pleased I was there’d be no casino. In my view, it only spelled trouble for our small town. The town I’d returned to, after a long absence, and was now where I felt at home. I valued the atmosphere it had, and a casino would have cheapened, or worse quenched it.
So, Jeff could fulfill his business desires with those wooly animals, and I’d go ahead with my plans to finally put my real estate license into use. I already had the paperwork underway to set myself up with a local broker once I found one.
Our future was laid out and I was so happy thinking ahead, that I missed what he was saying.
“...tourists will love alpaca merchandise. I can do tours of our property. Endless possibilities.”
I swear, the love of my life dreams about alpacas. I hoped he’d spare a dream or two about me! We were good at teasing each other, so when an opportunity presented itself...
“And will you learn how to knit alpaca blankets, and booties, for your market stall?”
Jeff offered a pretend scowl and put on his little boy’s pouty face. “Very funny. I know I’m jumping the gun but...” The pout was replaced with an excited grin. “We’re getting so close to the end of gestation, and the birth of the crias. I should be focusing on them. That gives us seven alpacas and we have room for a lot more!”
As I said, he dreams of alpacas. Last year he had made the acquaintance of a nearby breeder, Rick Murdock. They were thick as thieves.
“I’m sure Rick will help you when the time comes.”
He drained the last of his coffee and stood. “Speaking of Rick, he plans to stop by later today. So, I’d better head to the barn.”
He bent down and gave me a lingering kiss. “I do like the idea of having a high-end restaurant in town. Pubs are still my go-to, but when I want to take my best girl out for something special...”
“Your best girl? Ha!” I smacked his arm but smiled. “I don’t want to know who the others might be.”
I stood and was ready to shoo him away. I had things to take care of as well.
“I might like this kind of talk but for now, dinner plans and a massage are on hold until the investigation is over, and the place reopens. Now off you go. You may not remember, but a new resident is arriving this morning and I need to prepare. She’s only here for six weeks so shouldn’t be too much trouble. I’ll book our massage as soon as they’ll let us. Deal?”
Jeff leaned in close for a last kiss. “I’ll hold you to that, babe.”
***
Focus. I ran a brush through my curls and clipped them back. A light spray of cologne and I was good to go. Back to business.
A year ago, two of our rooms were left empty, and not by choice. I’d had a hit-and-miss success with finding occupants who’d fit in with the lifestyle Leven Lodge provided. Those deja vu feelings came back as I recalled the deaths brought about by a former resident, Ty Rogers. I’d nearly become one of his victims as well. He’d kidnapped me, held me at the abandoned mill, and bragged about his efforts to bring the casino to Grant’s Crossing. I’d fought
Any wonder I was glad there’d be no casino?
Further thoughts were halted when the intercom buzzed. “Alysha? Ms. Mikado has arrived.”
“I’ll be right there, Jan. Thanks.”
CHAPTER TWO
Dianne
July - the summer stretched ahead. More than ever, I was happy to be retired and had the freedom to enjoy lazy summer days. We’d had a doozy thunderstorm last night with teeming rain. My favourite weather. Great for sleeping, in my opinion, and good for the area farmers.
I stood in front of my bedroom window and stretched. The sun had been up a couple of hours before me. But, in the distance, thunderclouds were forming. Typical unsettled weather after a stretch of humid July heat. Alysha, and Jan, preferred the windows stay shut whenever the air conditioning was on.
Then I remembered today meant a new resident—albeit temporary—coming to Leven Lodge, where I’ve lived for about four years now. My curiosity over this new person was tinged with sadness, and other complicated emotions. I thought of former occupants no longer with us, especially Jock and Bea McTaggart. Jock had been a crotchety senior, but his wife was a sweetheart. They’d been gone from here for a few months now, and the place wasn’t the same without them. The person arriving today would be taking over Ty Roger’s old room.
Ty!
At one time a good friend, or so I had thought. Then, he betrayed all of us. Murderer! Grief counselling had been offered to us after the tragedies, but I had declined. I can take care of myself and don’t need professional help to deal with life’s curveballs.
Alysha, rightfully concerned about income shortage, had been a little too quick to rent the empty rooms out. Not always with a good outcome, but those mistakes were gone now. I hoped our expected arrival would be more to my, er, our liking.
To give her credit, she’d risen to the responsibilities as owner of the guest home which her grandmother, Estelle Grant, had established. And like Estelle, Alysha determined whoever moved in, needed to be a good fit with the existing residents. Small town living wasn’t for everyone, either.
Since the first day of her arrival last year, I’d felt a connection with her—not motherly—more like a protective older sister. She, Jan, and I had formed a tight bond over the months.
I finished dressing, anxious to head downstairs for breakfast. Oh, and to see who was moving in, of course.
When I opened my door to the hallway, I caught a whiff - of Minnie Parker. She must have headed down just ahead of me. The whiff? Ugh. An ongoing issue that Alysha had tried to address several times, with little success. Minnie could be intimidating, and while Alysha’s backbone had strengthened over the months, she still shied away from the wrath of Minnie.
Minnie’s room is next to mine and we share a bathroom. In all the time I've been here, I’ve never seen inside her room. That’s one thing, but it’s the, ah, aroma her locked door can’t contain, that gets to me. Doesn’t always seem to be a concern with the other residents, but I don’t think my nose is that sensitive! The smell fluctuates between unwashed body odour—which would be preferable—to stale or musty. Not unlike how an overflowing garbage can smells. And like a heavy smoker, those smells permeated her clothes. At times I envisioned the stink oozing right out of the pores in her skin. So, she was prone to leave a malodorous trail wherever she went.
I’d brought up the complaint with Alysha, and Jan, more than once, but somehow it had never been resolved. Maybe I should ask for a rent discount and see if that gets them moving. Although to be fair, the day before yesterday, Alysha assured me she had a plan and begged my patience for a few more days. Good thing I like her.
I stepped off the bottom stair and headed toward the dining room, where I was the last to arrive. Voices were excited. Like me, the rest of us wondered about our new housemate.
Leven Lodge accommodates eight residents. Currently, we were down in numbers, but the newbie arriving today would help. Philip McGee and the twins—Rose Edwards and Lily Courtemanche—sat at their places. As did Minnie.
“Sunshine all around this morning, I see.” I moved to the sideboard and helped myself to coffee and a bagel. Fresh fruit sat in the middle of the spacious dining table and once I sat, I grabbed an orange.
“Dianne,” acknowledged Philip, his voice monotone. He was a quiet one, often overshadowed by the energy radiating from the twins. Minnie sat taciturn, completely focused on her breakfast.
Rose had already finished eating but couldn’t wait to jump right in about our new companion. “I wonder what time she’ll be here. Oh, I do hope she’ll be fun. This place needs to liven up.” Rose and I often enjoyed time in town at the local Legion Hall. She and Lily were twins, but not identical - in looks or personality.
Minnie’s butter knife clattered to her plate. “What this place needs is for a person to have some peace.” And then the muttering started. “At least with the windows all shut up, there’s no barn smell. Puts me off my appetite.”
“And a good morning to you as well, Minnie.” Oh, I was tempted to provide a comeback about smells. She was a fine one to talk. A glance around the table told me no one else was willing to broach the subject either.
Jan bustled into the dining room with trays to begin clearing away breakfast debris. If I knew her, she'd have been up extra early today to ensure the accommodation for our new housemate was all in order.
“Rushed away from my breakfast again, I see.” Minnie scraped her chair back, not expecting a response, just being Minnie. We all pretty much ignored her pleasantries and let her be. True to form, she managed to grab another bagel before Jan cleared them away. Ewww, this time she stuck the food in her sagging sweater pocket. My own appetite took a hit and I rose from my chair as well.
“Can I give you a hand, Jan?”
“Thanks, Dianne. Everything’s under control.” She peeked at her watch. “You could keep an eye on the driveway and give me a shout when you see a car coming?”
“Glad to. I’ll take my coffee into the front room and stand guard.”
Jan laughed. “Yes, you do that.”
Jan and I were closest in age, and I had grown fond of her over the years. She ran the household with precision, but still managed to ensure the home was welcoming, and a safe place for all of us. She’d been so helpful to Alysha and Jeff when they had first arrived. While she can be a private person, there’s no one I’d rather have in my corner.
I settled with my coffee in the front room. The view looked out past the veranda to the long driveway. The fieldstone fireplace I sat next to is well used during colder months. In warm weather, most of us preferred the large veranda which ran the width of the house. Lots of room for everyone.
Philip entered the room, another book in hand. We had nearly lost him as well last year. A former university professor, successful despite his autism. Nice, reserved man, who doesn’t always interact well with others. Ty and his bloody medicinal meddling caused Philip to have a mental crash, and he’d been hospitalized for a few months. We were glad he was back now. So was Jeff. The two of them enjoyed a strong rapport over the alpacas. Good segue.
“Are you waiting for Jeff to head out to the barn?”
“Yes. Any minute now his plane will land.”
Right, I should explain that Philip has a charming range of expressions that surfaced a few years ago. Keeps us guessing at times what he means but we manage.
“Okay, but I think I saw him go there already. I guess the alpacas will be glad it’s not raining?”
“To be factual, Dianne, alpacas are known to favour inclement weather.”
I sat corrected and didn’t respond.
With his eyes focused more on his feet than me, he left and headed for the back door, the book still in his clutches. Books, and alpacas, were his escape. Once a book’s pages were opened, he was lost in whatever world he held in his hands.
I turned back to the window view and was rewarded with the sight of a large lemon heading toward the house—a brilliant yellow sports car. This might be interesting. I drained the last of my coffee and stood to get a better look as the car came to a stop at the front steps.
