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Authors: Mary Daheim

Gone With the Win: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery (27 page)

BOOK: Gone With the Win: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery

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“So we are. And isn’t that the best way to be?”

J
udith came downstairs a little after six. The guests were in the living room, Gertrude had her “supper” in the toolshed, Joe was in the kitchen, and the Joneses were on their way to Hillside Manor.

“Woody brought you up to speed, right?” Judith said as she picked up the drink Joe had made for her.

“Right.” He looked up from the salad he was making and grinned. “Nobody bats a thousand.”

“I know, but . . .” The front doorbell rang. “That can’t be Renie and Bill,” Judith said. “They come in the back door. I’ll get it. You’re busy.”

Glancing into the living room, she saw that her guests seemed to be enjoying themselves. She’d greet them after taking care of her unknown caller. Maybe it was Jess Sparks, making sure she hadn’t set fire to the Pilgrims and Indians. Judith opened the door—and felt weak in the knees.

“Ruby!” she cried, oblivious to the young woman’s male companion. “You’re safe!”

Ruby threw her arms around Judith. “I’m not only safe, I’m married! Is it okay to come in?”

“Of course!” Judith stepped aside just as Joe entered the hall.

“The prodigal guest has returned,” he said. As the dark-haired man followed Ruby inside, Joe asked if he should set two more places.

“Ohhh . . .” Ruby seemed uncertain. “What do you think, Win?”

He shrugged. “I’ll check the conditions on the pass. It could be dangerous driving to Little Bavaria if it ices up later on. I left my cell in the car.” He headed back outside.

“Come into the parlor, Ruby,” Judith urged, taking her by the arm.

Joe wagged a finger at their allegedly missing guest. “You had Judith in a tizzy. Did I hear you say you got married?”

“Yes! Last Monday. I never made it out of town. We honeymooned at the Cascade Hotel. It was heaven!”

“Good for you,” Joe said. “The Joneses should be coming along through the back door. I’ll check on dinner.” He headed for the kitchen.

Judith and Ruby sat down in the matching chairs. “How did you meet—Win, did you say?”

Ruby nodded. “Winston Flugelhorn. He was working as a private detective, just like Joe. In fact, that’s how we met. Would you believe he’s been following me ever since I got here?”

“Actually, I would,” Judith said, thinking of the PI Jess Sparks had hired, the handkerchief in the laundry with the initial
F,
Crissy the waitress who stated that the man with Ruby had a name like a musical instrument, and that Ruby no longer worked at Wolfgang’s, but hadn’t been in town since she left Hillside Manor. It made sense, in a weird way.

The whole story tumbled out. “I’m still fuzzy about what happened in the Thurlow District, but Win filled me in. I was headed for O’Reilly’s Pub because it was another of my dad’s hangouts when it was Spooner’s Schooners. Do you remember Burt the blogger?”

Judith nodded. Ruby smiled. “Kind of a dud, but he called me a week before I came here. He’d decided to do a series on ex-cons and rehabilitation. Burt knew my dad had been in prison, but later died, so he asked if I knew any other people who’d done time. The only one I could think of offhand was the guy who’d been married to Erma Schram. So who should I run into in front of the pub? Beaker Schram! I’m still fuzzy about this, but I guess Burt contacted him. Beaker had recently gotten out of jail and was trying to track down people who he thought had inherited money from Hector Sparks.”

“That’s true,” Judith said, and was about to explain what had happened to Beaker, but Ruby kept talking.

“I’d told Burt I was coming into town and staying at your B&B.” Ruby grimaced. “Maybe I was desperate. I figured Burt was better than nothing, especially if he sold his blogs as a magazine series. Anyway, I guess Burt told Beaker I was in town. He—Burt—showed him a picture he’d taken of me during Oktoberfest. Beaker recognized me when I got off the bus a few doors down from O’Reilly’s. He stopped me on the street and we went into the pub. Everything after that is a blur.”

“But you left the pub and went to The Persian Cat,” Judith pointed out. “You were with Win by then, right?”

Ruby smiled. “So he tells me. He didn’t come inside the pub, but he saw me leave and noticed I didn’t have my purse. Win watched me go into The Persian Cat, but waited to see if Beaker was coming out of the pub. When he did, Win accused him of stealing my purse. Beaker argued, but Win threatened to call the cops, so he handed over the purse and took off. Win didn’t realize I’d had my journal in it, but the money and credit cards were still there. Not that I remembered any of that. Win came into The Persian Cat, realizing I’d been drugged. He wanted to take me to the ER, but I wouldn’t let him. I mean, I didn’t know him, but he seemed nice and . . . he finally brought me to your place.”

Judith was puzzled. “But you ended up at the wrong house.”

Ruby looked chagrined. “I passed out before I got to the B&B. By the hedge or your garage, maybe? No clue. Somewhere along the way I dropped my purse. I don’t know how I ended up at the Rankerses’ house.”

“What happened to your cell?”

Ruby giggled. “Win kept it so he could make sure he wouldn’t lose me. He had to wind up his PI gig before he could ask me out. Saturday he called there when you and Joe weren’t around to ask if I could meet him for dinner and . . . well, you know. Before I left, Ozzie phoned, asking me to meet him at the residence inn where they were staying. I had Win stop by and wait in the car so I could pop in to explain I had a big date. Ozzie got ticked off and started lecturing me. I left.” She grimaced. “I didn’t want you to worry about me, so I dropped off the note saying I was with Ozzie and Freddy Mae. I didn’t want you to think I was a floozy. So Win explained everything and he was so sweet and so kind and so . . . really
incompetent
as a detective. I mean, he was only doing it as research for his next novel.” Ruby suddenly sobered. “He’s very successful, but doesn’t write under his real name. Flugelhorn doesn’t fit thriller novels very well. He writes as . . .” She leaned closer to whisper his nom de plume.

Judith’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding! I’ve read two or three of his books. He’s not only a best-selling author, but an excellent writer.”

“Please don’t tell anybody,” Ruby begged. “Not even Joe. Win’s a very private guy. He never, ever makes public appearances. Readers terrify him. Can you believe he’s never been married?”

“I can believe anything right now,” Judith admitted. “Did Win manage to finish his PI assignment?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t reported back to his client yet. I’ve no idea who hired him, because it’s confidential. I didn’t bug him about it because we were so . . . preoccupied. And room service was to die for.”

Judith refrained from saying that she thought Ruby had died for something else. “Did you ever make up with your brother?”

“Win had called him, but he was back in San Diego. He’s such an old woman sometimes. It’s being in the military, I guess. Anyway, he was worried that I was trying to snoop around about Mom’s murder. I told him I’d given it up—I was in love. That
really
pissed him off!” She giggled some more. “Besides,” she went on, “solving an old case is hopeless, even with DNA. Oh—here comes Win. What’d you find out, lover boy?”

“Snow in the forecast,” he said. “We’d better get going. Sorry, Mrs. . . . Flynn? Thanks for taking care of my little lamb chop.”

Judith and Ruby both stood up. Win put his arm around his bride and leaned down to kiss her. He had a strong chin and an aquiline nose. The man of Ruby’s dreams was now a reality, but, Judith realized, more eagle than vulture. “If you ever come this way,” she said, “don’t forget about Hillside Manor. It’s not the Cascade, though.”

Win smiled. “We’re off to Rome next week. Maybe coming back?”

“You bet,” Ruby said. “This place feels kind of like home.” She blew a kiss to Judith as they went down the stairs.

Renie practically flew into the hall. “Where are they?”

“Off to Little Bavaria,” Judith replied, still reeling from the visit.

“Damn! I missed seeing them. What did Ruby think when you told her you’d solved her mother’s murder?”

“I didn’t tell her,” Judith said as they headed back to the kitchen, where Joe had prepared their drinks. “I’ll wait until Ruby and Win have their first big fight.”

“Something’s off,” Bill asserted.

Joe frowned as he handed Judith her Scotch. “I wonder if this guy knows about Ruby’s future inheritance. Maybe he married her for the money.”

“No,” Judith said, before taking a large swallow of Scotch. “You’re both wrong. He has his own money.”

“Wow,” Renie all but whispered. “I can’t believe it. A happy ending for Ruby? It’s almost too good to be true. On the other hand, sometimes life does sort of even out. I don’t suppose you told her about her half brother, Jess?”

“I didn’t have time to tell her much. She came and left like an autumn breeze.” Judith paused, hearing the newlyweds’ car drive away. “Ruby deserves to be happy. There’s no point in rehashing all this tonight. After a stop in Little Bavaria, they’re off to Rome.” She raised her glass. “To Mr. and Mrs. Flugelhorn. Ruby has gone with the Win.”

About the Author

MARY RICHARDSON DAHEIM is a Seattle native with a communications degree from the University of Washington. Realizing at an early age that getting published in books with real covers might elude her for years, she worked on daily newspapers and in public relations to help avoid her creditors. She lives in her hometown in a century-old house not unlike Hillside Manor, except for the body count. Daheim is also the author of the Alpine mystery series, the mother of three daughters, and the grandmother of two granddaughters, all of whom live within shrieking distance.

www.authormarydaheim.com

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Credits

Jacket design by Richard L. Aquan

Jacket illustration by Bill Mayer

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

GONE WITH THE WIN
. Copyright © 2013 by Mary Daheim. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

ISBN 978-0-06-208984-7

EPUB Edition July 2013 ISBN 9780062089861

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