Creeps, Cache, & Corpses, page 7
“Have any of you seen Reginald Farthington this morning?” the sheriff continued.
Jane wrinkled her nose and glanced at me, and I said, “Mrs. Farthington told us Reggie would be at the hospital overnight, but he’d be our contact today.”
“Try to make the most of your stay here. If you need anything or think of anything let me know. But do not interfere.” He thanked us, handed us each a card, and left with the same admonition as Deputy Gray—we shouldn’t leave. We hadn’t planned to return to Columbia yet, but revoking permission imposed a prison-like sentence all the same.
Jane, thinking positively, said, “Let’s all take a break and regroup in an hour. Okay?”
While our charges and Jane retired to their rooms. CJ and I leashed the dogs and headed out for a walk.
After a mile, CJ cleared his throat, and I looked into his dark, troubled eyes. “How could this happen again, Katie?” He rubbed his forehead. “Trouble seems to follow you.”
Guilt wrapped itself around my heart. I had no grounds for protest, and I swallowed hard. “It might look that way, but I hope you’re not right.”
“I should not have said that. My emotions are a bit out of control. I missed Danica every day for seventeen years and now I see her in Carlee’s eyes. I hear her in Carlee’s laugh. I cannot allow anything to happen to our daughter. Today, I felt Danica’s presence more acutely.”
I held his arm, and we walked in silence, allowing the dogs to do their doggie things. I breathed in the fresh air and put away thoughts of Edith Farthington until we concluded our walk, climbing the cement steps to the inn. The sun furiously shook the winter doldrums away and shone so brightly I had to shade my eyes to identify the man lounging against a pillar on the porch.
We had ten steps remaining when I heard footfalls behind us. Someone elbowed me aside and clattered in front of us on obscenely high heels.
“Oh, Reggie,” said the black-haired woman from the salon. “What’s this world coming to?” Her arms snaked seductively over Reggie’s shoulders, and she interlocked her fingers behind his neck, bowing her head and sighing into his chest.
We reached the bottom step as she said, “You need to find someone who understands you and can help you run this lovely inn.”
Reggie wrenched her hands free and clasped them together in front of him, drawing them down and strongly passing them back. She caught herself before tipping over.
“Irinia, what have you done to your hair?” Reggie said with a hint of disapproval.
Irinia retreated a step and smoothed the black locks over her ear. “Do you like it?”
He ignored her question. “Why are you here? What are you prattling about?”
“Poor Edith, of course.”
“I haven’t seen her yet today.” He glared at Irinia.
“The rumor mill has been hard at work. News of her murder is all over town.” She twisted her body right and left, like an innocent toddler.
Reggie’s eyes widened. “What?” he stammered. “Edith? Auntie is …” His face contorted in anguish, and tears clouded his hazel eyes.
“You didn’t know? I thought you’d be the first to be notified. Unless of course—"
A deep voice growled from the street below. “Holocek. Leave him alone.”
She turned her head toward the order and hissed, “I will not leave the poor man alone, Mr. William Zasko. What are you doing here?”
Willy Zasko slammed the driver’s door on a shiny black Range Rover. He trudged up the steps, one at a time, as if he held the weight of the world on his shoulders and came face-to-face with Irinia Holocek. “You’ll have to excuse us. Reggie and I have a lot to discuss.” He looked pointedly at CJ and me, and then back at Irinia.
“What happened to your beat-up old pickup, Willy? Did you get a windfall of some kind?” Irinia said smugly, checking out her hot pink nails.
“We’re sorry for your loss, Reggie,” I said. CJ and I backed away from the simmering exchange and headed to the kitchen entrance. I winced, remembering the words I’d overheard in the hair salon, but knew I shouldn’t believe anything said without solid proof.
“Leave now, Irinia.” Willy’s ominous warning carried around the side of the inn. “Before I get angry. You wouldn’t want to see me angry, would you?”
We heard heels tramping away, down the porch steps.
The dogs pulled us into the alcove entry, stopping at the full water dish on the floor by the back door to slobber water on themselves and the rubber mat. Maverick’s ears pricked up.
“I hear it too,” I said.
My dog scratched on the kitchen entry and the female warbling stopped. The door opened and Lauren greeted us, beaming.
THIRTEEN
“You look …” I said.
“Ecstatic?”
“My thought exactly.” She obviously hadn’t heard about her boss, I hoped.
“I’m thrilled. I spoke to the doctors this morning and they told me Davy is being released today.” Her incandescent smile covered her entire face.
“Davy?” asked CJ.
“Davy’s my boy,” Lauren’s gleeful eyes shined almost as brightly as the sun. “They finally got everything under control, and I’m picking him up after I set out the happy hour spread.”
A throat cleared. Lauren turned around and I glanced over her shoulder. Reggie filled the doorway, his face downcast. He clenched and unclenched his big hands. “I’d like a word with you Lauren. I have some bad news,” he said, haltingly.
She gasped and smacked her chest. “It can’t be Davy,” she cried in a panic-stricken voice.
“No, no. It’s Edith.” He sagged a bit. “Could you excuse us, please?”
“Of course,” CJ said. He snapped his fingers and the dogs jumped to attention and led us to the foyer.
The anxious dogs tugged as we made our way up the stairs. When we walked by the girls’ room, CJ turned the knob, and the door opened. He stopped and peered inside. The room was empty, but we heard voices coming from down the hall.
Renegade rarely misbehaved, but she pawed our door, scratching the wooden surface. CJ whistled and both dogs took to their seats. Jane peeked through a narrowing opening and then pulled the door wide, revealing Carlee and Kindra on Jane’s bed, Galen at the desk, and Patricia sprawled on the floor.
“Where’ve you been?” Jane asked.
“We’ve been waiting like forever,” said Kindra.
“We’ve got so much to tell you.” Patricia articulated with care and proceeded to watch the conversation.
“We called mom. We didn’t want her to find out about Mrs. Farthington’s death from someone else. At first, she was going to come right home, but we talked, and she said the only person she trusted more than you three was Ransom.” Kindra screwed up her face. “He’s okay, but Patricia and I trust you way more.” Patricia nodded emphatically. “Mom said she’d support our staying here for the memorial service as long as we keep her in the loop and Ransom on speed dial.”
“I’m glad you called her.” Their mom, Debora, had a tough year and didn’t need more to worry about.
“We met the mysterious housekeeper too.” Carlee said.
I raised my shoulders in a ‘who’s that’ sort of way.
“You know. The origami fairy. Her face was so flustered when we caught her cleaning the bathroom. She apologized for letting down her guard. Mrs. Farthington likes, ah, liked the help to be invisible.”
Patricia’s hands released of flurry of motions, echoed by the words she spoke. “She signs, Ms. Wilk.”
“She signs?”
“Like Patricia, only she isn’t deaf,” said Kindra. “She just doesn’t speak. She uses American Sign Language and signed ‘sorry’ when we walked in on her. Fortunately, Patricia noticed and signed in return. Their hands were spinning and twirling like storm clouds, and we were so lost until Patricia interpreted for us.”
Very tiny warning bells increased my heart palpitations. Wasn’t it bad enough the girls had discovered a dead body? Now there was an adult nearby I hadn’t met, and I had to worry about stranger danger too.
“I’d like to meet your new friend,” I said.
The girls glanced at one another. Carlee spoke up. “I think she left for the day. While we were talking to her, she got a text and said she needed to finish up, but she’ll be back tomorrow. She prepares the breakfast. We can go down early and introduce you.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nicki,” Carlee and Kindra said at the same time and giggled.
“Nicki what?”
The girls looked at each other with confused expressions. Patricia shrugged and said, “Just Nicki.”
Kindra furrowed her brow. “She’s uneasy because the only job she’s ever had was working for the Farthingtons. We told her about the geocache and finding Mrs. Farthington’s body at the park—” Kindra caught my sharp intake of air. “She’d already heard about Mrs. Farthington, but she’s worried about her future here.”
“How long has she worked here?”
“White Star Inn? It just opened. We’re the first guests.”
CJ’s face showed signs of confusion, which never happened. He removed his phone from his back pocket and viewed the screen. “It is a five-star inn,” he said.
“Yeah, Dad, but how many reviews does it have.”
He read from the site. “Two,” he said, and his eyes widened. “One from RF and one from EF.”
Jane murmured, “Reginald and Edith.”
“I’ll bet that’s why price tags are hanging from some of the furniture.” Carlee walked over to a lamp and lifted a rectangular piece of cardstock tied with a red string. “They haven’t gotten around to removing them. Nicki doesn’t know if Reggie has the wherewithal to keep the inn going, and she’s a little nervous.”
“What did Nicki do before tending to this bed and breakfast?
“Mrs. Farthington has, er, had other properties, and Nicki’s worked at many of them, but this one was Reggie’s brainchild. Mrs. Farthington merely footed the bill.”
“How do you know all that?” My voice sounded a bit harsh, and the girls quieted, glancing away. “Sorry. But you really don’t know Nicki very well. Be careful.”
Jane gave me the you-should-be-the-one-to-talk look and pulled herself up to her full almost-five-feet. The watch on her wrist beeped. She checked it and said, “Let’s not waste the next sixty minutes. Who wants to go shopping?”
The tension eased. CJ and Galen begged off, hinting that almost anything would be preferrable to exhausting themselves, traipsing from one store to another on a secret mission no one understood, to discover the best deal with the least cost, taking the most amount of time in order to avoid meaningful conversation or healthy activity, and doling out cash by the handful. They promised to play with the dogs and find a great location for dinner. I wished I could stay with them.
Kindra and Carlee rolled off the low bed. Kindra teasingly tapped the top of Patricia’s head to drag her attention from her phone screen before she yanked her sister to standing.
Jane tied her hair back in a ponytail as if she was getting ready for a serious workout. Her jaw was set as was her determination to lead us to the very best shops New Prague had to offer. She pocketed my prepared list from the Chamber of Commerce and followed the girls down the hallway. Her thick golden ponytail swung back and forth as she marched on a mission. “We’ve got a job to do.”
Patricia stopped abruptly. She turned to Jane and displayed her phone screen.
“The temps are milder than yesterday, but if Patricia’s right, you’d best bring jackets. It’s going to rain.”
I dragged my feet for fifty-five minutes, silently objecting to the onerous undertaking, but happy Jane effectively diverted the girls’ attention away from the death. Her easy, effervescent smile signaled her delight in the shopping process. We were so different. How could she be my best friend?
FOURTEEN
We returned to the inn. Galen waited at the front door decked out in a light-blue button-down shirt, a navy-blue sport coat, and khaki pants, subtly hinting that perhaps upgrading from our standard T-shirt and jeans would be a good idea.
A pang of regret hit me when I realized we wouldn’t be able to flaunt the graphic on our new matching tees: a tall multicolored stack of books, a library card, and the slogan, Czech’n out.
This was a quaint town. What could possibly be the height of elegance?
I donned black leggings and a simple red-and-black sweater and joined Galen in front of the fireplace of the living room. He leaned against the registration desk, his chin in his hand, until something drew his attention to the doorway.
“Hey, handsome, how do I look?” Carlee asked, playfully batting her sultry silver eyes while inserting a bobby pin to secure her elegant updo. The short mahogany dress clung to her waist, and she spun on her heeled boots.
Galen’s eyes lit up. “You look fantastic.”
He stopped narrowing the gap between them when CJ spoke up. “Carlee, do you have anything else you can wear?”
“No, Dad.” Her teasing voice carried a hint of exasperation, suggesting this conversation might have occurred a time or two before. “This is the style.” Kindra breezed in, wearing a similar frock—short and flared—forest-green with miniscule yellow and white blossoms. “See?”
Patricia dressed in a flowing light blue pantsuit dolled up with chunky silver jewelry.
Amazed at Jane’s ability to ambulate in four-inch heels and fleetingly blinded by the light reflecting off the sequins in her little black dress, I failed to notice Maverick before he slobbered on my pants. I had a pang of awkwardness and a spot of envy. My fashion-forward friend turned heads wherever she went. If I didn’t clean the drool off my pants, I’d turn heads for quite a different reason.
The four-and-one-half-star establishment had over eight hundred reviews and its premium reputation seemed slightly out of place amid the town’s relaxed ambiance. Five-foot-high partitions sectioned off semi-private dining compartments. Fresh flowers and glowing candles topped each linen-covered table. Taking cues from CJ and the waitstaff assigned to us, Galen held out Carlee’s chair. When we were seated, the extraordinary dining experience began.
We savored each morsel of our delicious multi-course meal, and, by observing our plates when we’d finished, you’d have thought none of us had ever eaten a hanger steak before. (Jane had, but that’s beside the point.) There wasn’t a speck remaining. We’d scraped the bottoms of bowls of green beans almondine and garlic smashed potatoes. I even spotted what might have been a leftover crumb from one of the dinner rolls, but I could have been mistaken. Despite eating more than we ever anticipated, we still managed to demolish two pieces of lighter-than-air turtle cheesecake and two towering slices of the Czech delicacy, Medovník, a layered honey cake with caramel cream filling. Galen raised a hand in surrender, indicating even he couldn’t possibly ingest another bite.
Kindra, Carlee, and Galen slowly rose from the table and made their way to the piano bar guy who played requests in exchange for tips. As Patricia savored the last few bites of her cake, I hung back, letting CJ and Jane haggle over the bill.
That’s when I heard the commotion in the adjacent cubicle. I craned my neck and peeked over the short partition, spotting Willy Zasko. He took measured sips of a clear liquid from a martini glass, ignoring the pudgy salt-and-pepper-haired woman wringing her hands and wagging her finger at him. A few of the louder words drifted my way. I heard, “You think I’m going to let you get away with this,” “My fair share,” “I’ll get what I have coming to me,” and “You owe me.”
Zasko regarded the woman as if she were invisible. He drained his glass, plucked the cherry off the cocktail skewer, and popped it in his mouth. He adjusted his moustache with his knuckles, tossed a handful of bills on the table, and stood. He gestured to his server, pointed at the payment, and pivoted on his heels. I ducked and quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping again. The woman chased him, weaving through the tables, trying to keep up, though her efforts came to a halt as the hem of her shabby fur coat caught on the back of a chair. She struggled to disentangle herself as he marched through the exit doors and never looked back.
Before I could process the scene, I looked around the room. Irinia Holocek sat at a small table, close enough for her to witness the strange exchange as well. Our eyes met and recognition flashed over her features. She lifted her highball glass in a mocking toast, nodded curtly, and sneered. Disturbing.
I turned my attention to Patricia, concerned she might be bothered by all the fuss, and discovered she’d disappeared. After a quick scan around the restaurant, I spotted her standing at the server station, her eyes trained on her friends, wearing a huge smile. A surge of emotion caught in my throat. She couldn’t hear the exquisite rendition of “Perfect,” but seemed to revel in their joy of hearing it. What a girl.
I sidled next to Jane at the reception desk. “Did you hear them?’
Jane slashed her autograph on the receipt, stowed her credit card, and arched a sculpted eyebrow. “Hear who?”
I leaned in and whispered, “Willy Zasko and that woman?”
“What woman?”
I gestured to the front door and then rapidly spun three hundred sixty degrees. “She’s gone. But I heard them arguing.”
“What was Willy saying?”
“Nothing. He just sat there and ignored her.”
“Ah.”
“It’s true. And she kept shouting at him, pointing her finger.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“No, but …”
“Leave it, Katie. We can’t get any more tangled up in this. We’ve got to think of the kids.” She squeezed my arm and dipped to see up into my face. “It’s alright. Really.”
“You’re right. It’s just … I don’t know …”
