Open for Murder, page 21
Jack joined them late, taking in the table with a smile. It was dressed with a white linen tablecloth and matching napkins. A pansy-colored cozy hugged the teapot, keeping the orange-spiced liquid warm, while a little vase of matching flowers provided a centerpiece.
“Every time I sit down to eat, I feel like I’m at a wedding.” Jack unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap. “Aren’t I lucky?”
“You’re incredibly lucky,” agreed Zo. She’d just finished the last morsel of a cinnamon coffee cake fresh from Vi’s oven. She’d run to a hundred specialty stores for spices if it meant eating tasty desserts like this every day.
“Decorating is the only thing keeping my mind off jail these days,” said Beth. “When I focus on details, I don’t think about anything else. It’s like when I was planning weddings. I get into the zone and everything else disappears.”
“Do you ever miss your job in Chicago?” Zo asked. She thought she knew the answer.
“A little,” Beth admitted. “The romance, the love—the fights. Oh, do people fight while planning a wedding! Some of the mothers-in-law I’ve met would make you run the other direction.” Beth smiled and shook her head, perhaps remembering a recent argument.
“What about you?” asked Jack. “Beth said you used to be a journalist. Do you ever miss that work?” He stacked the remaining tea sandwiches into one big double-decker sandwich. Beth looked on with a frown, but he didn’t notice.
Zo thought before answering. She didn’t miss the commute or the office politics, but she did miss the stories. She liked searching for answers and eventually finding them. She liked owning the store more, though. Finally, she had something to call her own. “I miss the action. Tracking a story is kind of addicting. But my Curious Camper column keeps me writing.”
“She’s writing about lodging this week,” Beth explained to Jack. “She’s including the lodge in her column.”
“Which is due tomorrow.” Zo groaned. Her editor, Harriet Hobbs, hated it when things came in last minute. But this week it would have to be last minute. Zo hadn’t had time to finish. Harriet was a pro, though. She would understand the predicament. Zo was counting on it.
“I don’t envy you.” Jack slurped his tea. Dressed in a paint speckled t-shirt, he looked comical drinking from the delicate teacup. “Murderers and thieves aren’t my definition of curious campers.”
“Jack!” said Beth. “She’s not going to mention them.” She turned to Zo. “Are you?”
“Of course not,” said Zo. “I’ll put in a little plug for the lodge. You’ll see.”
“Feel free to put in a big one,” said Jack. “We’ll need it if word of Beth’s arraignment gets out. An arraignment!” He set down his cup with a clink on the saucer. “Can you believe it?”
“Sarah had to have taken the money,” Zo mused. “I’m positive of it. She was the only one who overheard Enid offer Beth twenty thousand dollars. My guess is Sarah went back into the room when Enid was sleeping and swapped the cash with the stationery from the lodge. The next morning, when Enid was found dead, she realized what a terrible mistake she’d made. She hadn’t just stolen money from a wicked old lady; she’d stolen it from a dead woman. Big difference.”
“I can’t imagine Sarah poisoning Enid, though,” said Jack. “She’s too…nice to be a murderer.”
“Zo doesn’t think the thief and the murderer are the same person.” Beth refilled her teacup. “More?”
Zo nodded.
“Then who?” Jack wondered. He munched his stacked sandwich as they considered the question. After a moment, he answered. “I overheard Kaya tell Molly she got that scar above her eye at a protest.”
Zo put down her teacup, remembering the knife in the bar. “What was she protesting?”
“I don’t think she said, but she carries a gun,” said Jack. “I saw it.”
“Carrying a gun doesn’t make someone a murderer,” Beth argued.
“Lots of people carry around here,” said Zo. “Nobody wants to be caught without protection in the forest. But I’d like to find out what she was protesting.”
“I hope you find something,” said Jack. “I don’t care who did it as long as Beth isn’t charged. This has gone way too far. The lawyer we hired agrees.”
Zo agreed, too. If Beth went to trial, it would tarnish her reputation, no matter the outcome. The news station would get ahold of it, if they hadn’t already, and it would be the biggest story of the summer. She needed to find something and quick. “Jennifer and Sarah went to Keystone. Where are Kaya and Allison?”
“They’re hiking out to Iron Creek Lake,” said Beth. “They left this morning with a sack lunch.”
Iron Creek was a twelve-mile hike west of the canyon. They wouldn’t be back for a while. Zo pushed back her chair. “Let’s go back to the lodge. I have an idea.”
Beth looked at Jack and then Zo.
“Don’t let me stop you,” said Jack, popping the last bit of sandwich in his mouth.
Beth’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen that look in your eye before, when you were twelve years old and convinced me to sneak out of the lodge. You wanted to see if the blue moon was really blue.”
Zo grinned. “I remember. It wasn’t. I was so disappointed.” She also remembered that Beth took some convincing. With the trial pending, she hoped she would need less persuading.
“I think I like this idea, Beth.” Jack pointed toward the lodge. “Go.”
Beth stood. “Okay, okay. You don’t need to gang up on me.”
Zo was glad for Jack’s nudge. Beth wouldn’t like the idea of snooping through her guests’ rooms, but they had to look for some clue to the stolen money while the group was away. Griffin and Robyn had left right after Enid’s death. It had to be one of the women who returned the money. She was sure of it.
Zo explained her plan as they entered the lodge through the rear entrance.
“You mean go through their personal belongings?” whispered Beth.
Zo could tell by the tone of her voice she was bothered by the idea. She tried another idea. “The envelope was filled with stationery from the lodge, right?”
“Right,” said Beth.
“So, somebody’s stationery must be missing,” said Zo. “All we need to do is find the missing stationery, and we’ll have our thief.”
Beth bit her lip. “And we wouldn’t be going through anybody’s stuff. We’d be restocking supplies.”
“Exactly,” said Zo. She started toward the staircase before Beth could change her mind. “Where do you put the stationery? On the desks?”
“Most rooms have a desk or table,” said Beth. “I usually set it in one place or the other, along with a pen.”
“Let’s start with Sarah’s room,” said Zo as they approached the upstairs hallway. With all the doors shut, it was dark, and Zo felt a little like a kid again. The big old lodge, she and Beth exploring places they weren’t supposed to. It was thrilling. Beth hesitated outside Sarah’s door. Obviously, she didn’t feel the same way.
“It’s okay for you to restock supplies,” said Zo. “You’re fine.”
Beth took a breath and opened the door with the key.
It was much brighter in Sarah’s room. The large window facing the canyon was open. Sunshine covered the room like a warm blanket, and Zo went to the small writing desk. Postcards, gum, and an e-reader were scattered atop. She opened the drawer. No paper. She smiled.
“Zo,” said Beth.
Zo turned. Beth was holding the notepad in her hand.
“It was on her nightstand,” Beth said. “It hasn’t been used.”
Zo was stunned. She had been certain Sarah was the thief. “Let’s check Jennifer’s room. She won a lot of cash at the casino. Maybe that’s why she returned Enid’s money.”
Beth locked the door behind them. The locks were originals and used keys, but a good shove could have opened any of the doors. They were part of the lodge’s rustic charm but not very safe. Zo would have to talk to Beth about installing keycards when this was over.
Though Jennifer’s bed was made, the rest of the room was a mess. Clothes, makeup, and shoes lay all over. She didn’t have a desk but a table, and Zo started there. After pushing aside necklaces and bracelets, Zo found the lodge notepad—untouched. She looked at Beth, who was standing next to her. Beth shrugged.
“You haven’t replaced any of these?”
“None,” said Beth. “I never thought to check.”
“Come on,” said Zo. “Whose room is next?”
“Kaya’s,” said Beth.
Kaya’s room was neat. She had her suitcase propped up on the luggage holder, and her leather jacket hung on the back of the desk chair. On the desk were several brochures on area attractions, tidily arranged. Zo was careful not to mess them up, for she had a feeling Kaya would notice if something was out of place.
Zo lifted the desk phone. No paper there. She checked under the binder of local attractions. Nothing. She opened the tiny desk drawer, and there was the used notepad. Only one piece of lodge stationery was left! Kaya was the one who’d stolen the money, but why?
A noise happened downstairs, and Beth, who’d been staring at the empty notepad with her, gasped. Now wasn’t the time for asking questions. They needed to get out of there, or at least Zo did. Beth had an excuse to be in the room. It was her lodge. Zo couldn’t think of a reason for being upstairs.
“What are we going to do?” whispered Beth.
Zo shut the desk drawer. “If it’s Kaya and Allison, get them into the kitchen. Tell them you have something you want them to taste. I’ll leave when they’re gone.”
“What about the stationery?”
“Leave it,” said Zo. “I’ll see what I can find on Kaya at the library.”
They ducked out of the room. Zo noticed Beth was shaking as she turned the key to the lock. Poor Beth. She’d been through so much. Theft, murder, arrest. Opening weekend was not the reunion they’d planned.
From the dim hallway, Zo could hear Beth downstairs talking about a new breakfast muffin. It was loaded with egg, cheese, and bacon. She wanted someone to taste-test it. Zo recognized Kaya’s voice. It sounded as if Kaya wanted to take a shower, but when Beth insisted, they must have agreed. The great room was quiet again.
Zo tiptoed down the stairs, glancing at the fireplace and bookshelves. No one was there. She scooted through the front door, closing the screen silently behind her. Then she darted toward the parking lot, jumping into her Subaru, her heart pounding all the way back to Spirit Canyon.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kaya had stolen the money, or at least filled the envelope with paper, but why—and when? Unlike Sarah, Kaya had been downstairs when Enid offered Beth the cash. Zo was the only other person in the hallway, except Griffin and Robyn, who were fighting in their room. It didn’t make sense.
Zo rolled down the window, allowing the late afternoon sun in. Beth had seen the money that afternoon, when she brought the bottle of water to Enid’s room. She told Zo she wanted to ask Enid to put it in a safe but decided against it. But had Beth seen the money that night, when the offer was made? Zo pushed the phone button on her steering wheel. She could easily find out with a call.
Beth answered right away. “I didn’t even hear you leave, you sneaky thing,” she whispered.
“I’m pretty good at getting myself out of a jam,” said Zo.
“Can you believe it was Kaya?” said Beth. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Me neither.” Zo paused for a moment. “Beth, did you see the money that night? When Enid offered it to you in exchange for closing the lodge?”
“Yes,” Beth said. “It was in the envelope on the table. She pointed to it.”
Zo slowed down as she approached the outskirts of town. “But did you actually see the bills?”
The line was quiet for a moment. “I knew it was there because I’d seen it that afternoon. But no, now that I think about it, she didn’t physically show me the cash. Why? Is it important?”
Zo wasn’t sure. The information only changed the timeline in her head. “I assumed the money was taken Saturday night, after your argument with Enid, but it might have been switched earlier. Enid didn’t open the envelope, and you didn’t see the money that night.”
“You’re right,” said Beth. “Kaya could have swapped it out any time. Enid started snooping around the grounds the moment she checked in.”
Zo stopped at the light. “I’m almost to the library. I’ll see what I can find and let you know.” She ended the call.
Tourists were on their late afternoon hiatus, and Main Street looked neat and pretty. Giant baskets of purple and pink impatiens hung from timeworn lampposts, and the scrolled metal benches were empty. People would return tonight for dinner, for drinks, for a show at the historic opera house. Brigadoon was playing this month and next month A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But for now, Main Street was clear, waiting patiently for nightfall.
The library wasn’t as quiet. Hattie always had something going on, and today she’d invited a local brewing expert to speak—and pour. The talk was over, and participants were huddled around the table, tasting a pale ale. After all, it was five o’clock somewhere.
Zo spotted Jules in the crowd. Six feet tall with a curvy figure, Jules was hard to miss even with her hair down. It hung past her shoulders, the pink streaks buried beneath a mass of yellow. Zo took a quick detour in her direction.
“Thinking about adding another brew at Spirits & Spirits?” Zo asked, touching Jules’s arm.
“Taste this,” said Jules, handing her a tiny plastic glass. “It’s perfect for summer.”
Zo took a sip. “I like it. It has a twist of lemon.”
Jules took another glass for herself. “Me, too. What are you doing here?”
“Trying to help my friend Beth,” said Zo. “The one I told you about who moved back to the area.”
“Ah.” Jules nodded. “The one who’s being haunted.”
“You’re thinking of her mother, but yes, same family.”
“Has the mom had any other visitors?”
“Only the cops. That’s why I’m here, exploring new leads.”
“That’s not a good sign.” Jules squinted. “Maybe it’s time for a spirit intervention.”
“Is that a real thing?”
“Would I suggest it if wasn’t?” asked Jules.
“Depends on your fee.” Zo gave Jules a playful nudge. “I’m just kidding. I might take you up on it, but I’m going to try the newspaper database first. It’s free and doesn’t require candles.”
“We both have our ways of finding information.” Jules held up her plastic cup. “But my store has beer, so you tell me whose way is superior.”
“Yours is definitely more exciting. I’ll give you that.”
“I have to get back,” said Jules. “When are you going to stop by again?”
“Very soon,” said Zo. “I need a refill on my growler. Max Harrington and I had a few glasses the other night.”
Jules’s brown eyes opened wide. “Ranger Max?”
“Yep.” Zo wished she could take a snapshot of Jules’s face. It was a mixture of excitement and annoyance.
“You just don’t drop a bomb on me like that before I have to leave,” said Jules.
Zo chuckled. “It’s not a bomb. It was a few beers.”
“I expect you in for a tarot card reading—ASAP.” Jules tossed her cup in the garbage. “We need to see where this is headed.”
Zo promised she would check her schedule before saying good-bye, smiling at Jules as she walked away.
Zo scanned the library. Hattie was at the reference desk. The area, shaped like a triangle, was Hattie’s cockpit. Zo imagined her running the entire library from here, pushing keys, scanning cards, answering phones. She was scribbling something on one of those tiny slips of paper only found in a library. Looking up, she stuck her pencil behind one ear. “Are you here for the beer?”
“No—but it was good,” said Zo. “I had a taste. I came to find information on a person who lives in Gillette, Wyoming. Do you have the newspaper for that city?”
“Sure, The Gillette News Record,” said Hattie. She stood and led Zo to the computers. “Is this about the lodge?”
Zo nodded. “One of Beth’s guests lives there. I want to see if I can find anything on her. She and Enid had words Saturday night.”
Hattie punched a few keys on the keyboard and opened the library portal. “I imagine Enid had words with lots of people. She had the tendency to rub people the wrong way.” She found The Gillette News Record database. “The nice thing about using this is you won’t have to pay for the articles. Otherwise, try LexisNexis.”
Zo knew from her work as a journalist that LexisNexis contained all the newspapers in the US. If she struck out in The Gillette News Record, she could try a national search. “Thanks, Hattie.”
“I’ll be right over there if you need me.”
Zo sat down at the computer, deciding she’d search for the protest first and money second. She typed in Kaya’s name and the word protest, and the cursor began to spin. Zo opened the articles, scanning the highlighted text for Kaya’s name. After ten minutes of scrolling, she found a mention. The article reported that one protester, Kaya Cantrell, had been taken to the hospital after she clashed with an opposing demonstrator and had her own knife used against her. Zo kept reading. The protest had to do with a mosque that had recently opened in Wyoming. Though Kaya wasn’t Islamic, she was a strong supporter of religious freedom. She was quoted in the article saying that Native American practices had been forbidden; she didn’t want to see another group’s religious freedom limited.
