“The money Paul found was a surprise. If Edith had retained guardianship, she’d have been able to access Danica’s money in a regular bank account. But the cash was still there so I doubt Edith or anyone else found it. Danica could’ve used the funds to finance her departure. What if she didn’t think Edith would let her go? What if Willy and Edith colluded to keep Danica right where she was? Who else would want Edith dead? Or Willy for that matter?”

  “You’re sleuthing again.” Her voice had a slightly accusatory sing song quality. “But, this time, I’m with you. Danica didn’t do it. She couldn’t have.”

  Not true. She certainly could have murdered either or both of them.

  “We have to prove she didn’t commit the murders,” I said. “Otherwise, there will be lingering doubt, people thinking she got off because of a legal loophole or because someone lied. I think the sheriff has made up his mind, and we have to find something to irreversibly change it.”

  Jane’s eyes grew wide. “What do we do?”

  “We think. I’ll call the sheriff again tomorrow. The pool of suspects in Edith’s death is sizeable, but only someone with access to the inn would have had the opportunity to kill Willy—Lauren, Irinia, Reggie, Kimber Leigh, and Ryker.”

  “Or one of Ryker Chesterfield’s cronies.”

  “True, but I don’t see someone who follows Ryker’s lead so closely having much gumption to go off on his own. They appear spineless. “

  “A little weasley, that’s for sure.”

  “I need to talk to them again, before they’re allowed to leave, which probably will be in the near future.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  I tossed and turned all night, but we rose early.

  “You’d best get started,” said Jane “I’m tied up. Kahula would like to visit Danica today and I think she’s convinced Paul to come as well. He has embraced the thought Danica is alive but is beside himself—not having done enough to find her or even look for her over the past seventeen years, nor being able to get her out of the trouble she’s in now.”

  “He and CJ, both.”

  “I may be driving, but Kahula’s instincts have been finely honed over the past seventeen years and are quite sharp. I’m doing it all her way.”

  Jane jerked her head pointedly at the door. “Looks like Ryker and two of his pals are on their way to the kitchen,” she whispered. “Good luck.”

  I didn’t have to pretend I liked the kolache I chose for my breakfast pastry, but I did have to feign interest in Ryker’s opinions so I could ask him about Danica’s arrest. I stood behind him in line, waiting for my chance to use the space-age coffee machine, and asked, “How is your week going?”

  He stared at me, coldly. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’ve heard only good things about the brewery. If we ever get back here without kids in tow, I think I’d like to make a visit.”

  He nodded. “They are hosting one of the biggest festivals in the state, and they have some of the best beer.” He looked me up and down. “They didn’t have teachers like you when I was in school.”

  The abrupt change in topic caught me off guard. I tamped down my ferocious comeback and ignored the lurid comment. “You saw they arrested Nicki—”

  “The mute with the origami towels and the candies?”

  I nodded. “I wonder why she did it.” No response. “We’ll probably be allowed to leave soon, but will you be staying to finish out your beer week?”

  “I think that’s a great question,” one of the other young men said, taking a big bite of a cheese Danish. He swiped at the flakes that drifted onto the front of his shirt. “I’ve been liking the beer tasting. We could stay for a good time. Plus, we prepaid, right Ryker? I don’t see your bro returning any of our hard-earned Benjamins.”

  I couldn’t blame Ryker for being wary. I hadn’t wanted to be all that friendly before today, and he still unnerved me when I thought about him and my girls, but he pounced on the opportunity to deny any wrongdoing. “We didn’t have anything to do with the killings so we’re still planning to stay through Friday. What about you?”

  I had no idea where the news of the day would take me, nor had I any idea how long CJ, Carlee, Kahula, and Paul planned to stay. We were vested in the outcome whether or not Sheriff Zasko did any more investigating. “I’m not a driver. I just go where the wheels take me.”

  “Too bad,” Ryker said with a too-familiar leer. I tried not to let my distaste color the tone of my voice and deny me a chance to continue our conversation. The way he said ‘too bad’ made goosebumps crawl up and down my back, but I stayed rooted to my seat at the breakfast bar.

  The fourth young man from his party concentrated on his phone so intently, I was surprised he made it through the doorway unscathed. “Hey, Ryker, your phone’s been bouncing all over the desk upstairs. That attorney wants to know when you’re going to meet …” Ryker coughed, and the young man raised his eyes. His ears lit up like a Christmas tree, and he slid the phone into Ryker’s open palm.

  The mention of an attorney halted the conversation long enough for me to relish the last nibble of sweet bread, and an idea came to me. I brought up my photos, zoomed in on one, and placed the device on the table, keeping my eyes on Ryker. He tensed. I’d hit a nerve. “We found a family tree with your name on it. Isn’t that peculiar?”

  He cleared his throat and blanched but couldn’t bring himself to look away. “Where’d you find that?”

  The quartet of men listened without moving, and I said what might be true. “The sheriff collected it with the rest of Mrs. Farthington’s belongings.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Chesterfield’s a name you find all over the place.”

  “You’re the only Chesterfield I’ve ever met.”

  His lips formed an almost sinister grin. He sat back and said, “That’s unfortunate.” He stood and backed away from the counter. “Time for our brewery tour.”

  I thought I heard one of his friends hiss as they sauntered out the door, “Ryker. You said no one would ever know.”

  Know what?

  Jane entered the kitchen, looking over her shoulder at the departing foursome. “What did you find out?”

  “They’re talking to an attorney. I don’t know to whom, nor what it means. However, Ryker really didn’t like that I had a copy of the family tree, but he didn’t send up any red flags. I’m forwarding it to the sheriff. And it can’t hurt to ask if the ancestral information is the same as the other tree. The worst thing that can happen is that he doesn’t answer.”

  I sent off the photo, and my phone rang almost immediately.

  “Katie, why do you have a photo of this family tree?”

  “We found two more of Nicki—Danica’s—carved boxes. Each contained torn scraps of paper, and what you have is the picture after we assembled them. Until then, we had no idea what we had.”

  “You didn’t think you should have turned them over immediately?”

  “I left two messages.” I took a breath and forged ahead. “I think it looks like the family tree you found among Edith’s belongings. Could we compare them?”

  “I’ll send Gray over to collect the boxes and the tree. Anything else?”

  I scratched my fingertips on the raised ugly little red bumps and forced myself to ignore the irritation. “We found musical instruments hidden in Danica’s floor.” I heard fingers drumming. I cleared my throat and said, “And a pile of cash.”

  His ragged, heavy breathing carried over the phone, and I worried my news might’ve been detrimental to his health. “Sheriff?”

  “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Sit tight,” he said before disconnecting.

  Nine minutes later, they pulled up in front.

  By the end of our lopsided and uncomfortable conversation, Sheriff Zasko’s face burned scarlet, and his reprimand stung. “I warned you not to get involved. This is a serious matter for law enforcement to deal with. You could compromise my investigation.”

  Gray counted the money. It totaled over seven thousand dollars. To the sheriff, it added fuel to the already incendiary evidence against Danica.

  “Sheriff, you translated Danica’s first four notes.” I glanced up to my right, sifting information, taking my time, making sure I separated the evidence I shared with the sheriff from the contents in the files Gray had allowed me to see. “She was well on her way to independence, and with the cash, her freedom would have been assured. She wouldn’t have had to kill anyone.”

  “Unless one of them threatened to stop her.”

  “Don’t you think if either Edith or Willy would have discovered her resources, they would have confiscated them?”

  He hummed and nodded as if he’d just pounded another solid nail in the sturdy coffin surrounding Danica. “Maybe they did.” Sheriff Zasko let that sink in as he collected the cash from the coffee table. He examined each of the instruments and secured them in a plastic tub. As an aside, he said, “Chief Connelly sent along a copy of that family tree. She considered your contribution to her investigation significant and thought you earned the privilege to compare the two, although I don’t know what you hope to achieve. Gray,” he called.

  I pulled up the photo on my phone and pounced on the paper Gray unfurled, noting the inclusion of two additional generations. The name Ryker Chesterfield completed one ancestral line and connected to an unidentified relation born almost two decades earlier. I pointed. The sheriff’s face gave nothing away. Gray rerolled the oversized page and slid it into a cardboard tube.

  “We should be able to wrap up the particulars of the murders today and you and your party will be allowed to leave tomorrow.” The sheriff stared out the window as if concentrating. “Without a doubt, you have assisted in our enquiry.” He turned back and caught my eyes. “But you must cease and desist. No more meddling, or I’ll be forced to arrest you for obstruction.” He and Gray left in a whirlwind.

  The temperature in the parlor seemed to drop a chilling ten degrees. The sheriff was right. All I’d done was make things worse for Danica.

  I collapsed onto the forest-green loveseat. My head dropped back, and my hands fell to my sides, plucking absentmindedly at the buttons on the tufted upholstery. “I give up,” I murmured.

  My phone dinged. I hauled myself to sitting and made a mad grab, but my phone tumbled from my fingers and landed upright between the cushions. I fished it out along with dried flakes of food and a small, light-blue, folded square. While reading the text from Dad, I tucked the scrap of paper in my pocket and brushed the tiny crumbs onto my palm.

  Ellen completed her first run off the bunny hill today. I gave her the same advice I’ve always given you. Never give up.

  He always knew just what to say. I wouldn’t interfere with the sheriff’s investigation if I could help it. But I’d never give up.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Thanks, Dad. I needed that. We might be allowed to leave tomorrow.

  I thought hard about family and added to my text before pushing send.

  I hope Ellen likes Duluth.

  Good food, skiing’s okay, but we miss you.

  As long as I had my fingers warmed up, I sent a message to Pete.

  We should be allowed to leave tomorrow. Can’t wait to get home.

  I didn’t wait for a response and sent the same message to Ida before dropping the flakes in the trash and striding out of the parlor. I heard movement in the kitchen, and determined to tie up a few loose threads, ventured another talk with Lauren.

  Her forehead glistened with perspiration. Up to her elbows in a yeasty dough, she blew fine pink wisps of hair away from her face. “You’re up and about early, Katie.” She gazed at the clock. “Or I’m a little late. What can I do for you?”

  “Can I help?” My heart rate picked up. Kitchens seemed to blow up under my ministrations, but I followed her eyes to the countertop. Beads of sweat prickled down my neck and I used two fingers to pull my collar away.

  “Would you cut up parchment paper to fit the baking sheets?”

  “That I can do.” I let out a breath. After a few zips across the jagged teeth, I said nonchalantly, “The sheriff believes he’ll have everything wrapped up tomorrow and we’ll be allowed to leave.”

  She stopped kneading and brushed the back of her hand along her cheek, leaving a powdery white streak. “They’ve settled on Nicki then?” Her face scrunched as she held back the tears pooling in her eyes. “How can they think that?”

  “Do you have any idea who else they should look at? Any evidence to give Sheriff Zasko?”

  “No.” She sniffled. “But it could just as easily have been me. I can’t imagine her killing Mrs. Farthington. Nicki and I moved to the inn at the same time, helping to get it ready for the grand opening. Although our suggestions for improvements met with resistance, I don’t think Nicki was particularly offended. I wasn’t. Mrs. Farthington was a master at making money in the hospitality industry and real estate. With her support, Reggie was trying to make this place a first-class establishment, maybe start his own empire.”

  “Do you think Danica, I mean, Nicki wanted to leave? Would Edith have kept her here?”

  Lauren snickered. “No one could make Nicki do something she didn’t want to, but she was accommodating. When her wood shavings showed up everywhere Reggie told her she was making a mess, and rather than quit, Nicki relegated her woodworking to her room. He might have been in love with her at one time. He’s been asking to marry her every year I’ve been with the Farthingtons. She says no and they joke about it and go on as if nothing changed. If she was going to leave, she would’ve made all the preparations she needed to and succeeded.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “This is year six.”

  Maybe Reggie was the persistent man Danica referred to as not wanting to take no for an answer. Was it a running joke between them? Afterall, his engagement to Irinia happened awfully quickly.

  “What about Willy Zasko? You said, Nicki avoided him. Do you know why?”

  “Nicki was smart and stayed out of the limelight as well as she could. She rarely interacted with our patrons. Instead, she’d get up extremely early to do her job. Mrs. Farthington appreciated her quiet approach. Nicki had warned Mrs. Farthington to be optimistic but skeptical of Willy’s intentions, business and personal. Mrs. Farthington never heeded her advice because she respected the way Willy did his job. I guess they made a lot of money working together.”

  “Did you make a sandwich for Willy Sunday evening or leave the fixings on the sideboard.”

  She pushed and pulled the dough. “No. Deputy Gray asked the same question. I put everything away when you left for the hospital. He could have made his own sandwich. He knew his way around my kitchen.”

  As long as Lauren was willing to talk, I asked about the car we saw her driving.

  “That old thing?”

  I wished my old car looked like her old car. I’d have to check with Galen again. It looked new to me.

  “My brother’s a gear head. His newest car is red, and I got a hand me up. I’m not complaining. I didn’t have to pay a cent.”

  “What did you say he does?” I scratched at my fingers. I’d have to find some remedy. They were beginning to burn.

  “I didn’t, but if you really want to know, he’s a forensic accountant and smart as a whip. Our mom wanted him to be a doctor. That’s not happening and that’s why she’s so angry.”

  She rolled and cut and filled and wrapped the pastries, lining them up on the parchment and covering them with a white flour sack towel. “If you come back in an hour and twenty minutes, you’ll have a fresh kolache.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that.” I hadn’t gotten any indication Lauren was lying. I believed almost everything she said, but there was something I couldn’t pinpoint that made me uncomfortable.

  I met Kindra and Patricia on the stairs. Patricia signed and Kindra interpreted. “Ms. Mackey took everyone, except Galen, to the police station, and we’re going for a walk. Do you want to come?”

  I used one of the few signs I knew. “Yes.” I added without signs, “We’ll take the dogs too.”

  I fetched my four-footed friends and knocked on Galen’s door. “It’s open.”

  I stuck my head in. “We’re taking the dogs for a walk.”

  Beams of light streamed in the window like a spotlight on Galen as he hung his head over the desk. “I’ll stay here if that’s alright with you. I’m studying my lines. We’ve got a good chance of making it through the first round of the mock trial competition.” Our high school team hoped to earn a berth at the state tournament. Galen assumed the identity of Lieutenant Mauritz Hakan Bjornstrom-Steffansson, the role he embraced from our Titanic trial, and with a guttural Swedish accent as thick as mud, said, “We go where the winds of fortune take us.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yup, but it’s hard watching Carlee. It’s ripping her up.”

  “Carlee has her dad and grandparents and you. I talked to Lauren and I’m checking …” I stopped before admitting I might continue to look into other possibilities.

  Galen picked up on it anyway, slammed the cover of his script, and jumped to attention. “And I’m going to help. Let’s get a move on.”

  When Maverick walked behind, he pulled, so he and Renegade took a spirited lead, not quite running but too fast to be called a stroll. The fourteen-minute promenade took us to the edge of the sleepy downtown. A line of five patrons waited patiently outside the post office. A friendly barber waved a comb and scissors as we passed by. I slowed in front of the photography studio and peered through the cleared windows. Kimber Leigh sat hunched behind the counter. I hoped she’d talk to me.

  “Galen, hold these please.” I handed off the leashes. “This will just take a minute.”

  He peered through the window and when his curiosity was appeased, he said, “We’ll get some hot chocolate from the bakery.” Renegade jerked her leash, and he added, “And be right back.”

  A bell dinged when I passed through the doorframe.

 

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