Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn (32 page)

“Twenty nine.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Can I ask you something? As a newspaperman, aren’t you supposed to do anything for a story? Sell your soul or something? Maybe even cook meals?”

“I sold my own grandmother once.”

“You can do that?” I sighed and opened the large pantry door to grab the tray of our specialty packaged cookies someone put back too high up. Large shelves lined one side of the small room. “Can you help me reach this?”

He easily retrieved the tray. After that, I’m not sure how things happened. One moment I was grabbing two packages of cookies, the next, I heard Grandma calling out, “Victoria!” and I grabbed the pantry door and pulled it shut, knocking us off balance, and leaving us in the dark.

I fell against David, and pushed off instantly, but in that brief instant I touched him, I smelled the warm, musky man smell of him and felt the strong rumblings of his repressed laughter. A heady combination. He whispered conspiratorially. “Your grandmother, by any chance?”

“Shh. She’ll hear you and want to know what we’re doing in the closet.”

“And what exactly are we doing in the closet?” He sounded amused.

I muffled a laugh. “I don’t know, exactly.”

“Victoria?” My grandmother’s voice sounded loud enough she must have been right outside the closet. “Where are you, girl?”

I nearly lost it then. The laughter bubbled up and I tried desperately not to let it loose. It was nervous laughter, laughter releasing all the combined tensions that were gathering inside me: the murder, the police investigation, my lost ring, my grandmother courting Dr. Ray, Liz leaving Gene.

“Victoria?” Her voice moved away from the closet.

I started to laugh, and David joined in. “Your brother warned me he had a wacky family, but I didn’t know just how wacky until this very moment.”

“I can’t believe I’m hiding you in a closet.” I could barely talk, I was laughing so hard.

“I find it difficult to believe, as well.”

“She’s been looking for a boy toy. I figured you weren’t safe. Have you ever met my grandmother?”

“I don’t…” He choked off the words with another laugh.

“What?” I could barely get the word out.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get a chance to meet her.”

I leaned against the wall and held my sides and laughed.

David and I both jumped when the pantry door opened. Liz looked startled to find us there. She shook her head, saying, “I can’t believe how people will stuff any old thing in this closet,” as she reached in, pulled out the broom, and shut the door.

We came out laughing, and in what seemed like only moments, the timer went off and it was time to serve one of the most delicious meals I’d ever eaten.

David most certainly proved he was a chef. And that he could be a friend and had a sense of humor. And he showed me that I could laugh with a man, something I doubted would ever happen again after Robert died.

I only hoped he was honorable enough to keep his promise to me of waiting to write another story about the investigation.

* * *

Lunch was a huge success. And it was followed by the kind of thing that can only make a meal better— other than me not helping prepare it, that is— Kevin being lifted into the big Snowcat by the officers. Paul was escorting him down and then planned to head home to check on Jennifer. The murderer was leaving the building— the mountain. I hoped.

Zach put his arm around my waist. “Is he the killer, Mom?”

Liz caught my eye and frowned.

I hated to have my son exposed to this whole thing. “Yes, squirt. I think so. And Uncle Paul thinks so, too.”

“I’m glad he’s leaving.” He was quiet for a long moment. “Mom, if you hear something that could be important and someone tells you not to say anything about it, are you supposed to not say anything? Cuz you told me to tell you.”

I glanced down at his little seven-year-old freckled face, and a sense of unease came over me. I took his hand and walked him into the library, letting Liz follow us in. I shut the door, and took him gently by the arms. “You should always tell your mother. Especially if someone tells you not to say anything about it.”

“Well, the dude in black, you know who I mean?” When I nodded, he said, “He told that dead guy that he better stop stealing money. And he better stop hurting that lady.”

I suspected Zach’s overactive imagination had just taken hold. “You heard this?”

“Geez, Mom, I have ears, you know.”

“When did this happen?”

“I was out shooting bears in the woods—”

He was exaggerating because he was scared. I could feel it. I pulled him into my arms. Now was the time to completely trust everything my frightened child said. “Tell me about it.”

Didn’t I have someone with Zach every moment? No, that was after the murder. Before, I was too caught up in making sure everything ran smoothly.

“I wanted to play in the snow, and I heard that guy yelling at the dead guy. Except he wasn’t dead yet. He said he’d make sure the other guy would never steal anybody’s money again.”

“My gosh,” I said. Which was worse, that my son was traipsing outside while a murderer was loose? Or the news Garrett threatened Calabria? I wasn’t too surprised about the threat; after all, they nearly fought at the Inn. But I was surprised that he would threaten my son. Speaking of bears, I was going to show Garrett what a mother bear could do to protect her cub.

“What did he say to you, baby? Try to remember.”

He was quiet for a moment. “The man-in-black dude told the dead guy he better not ever hurt her again.”

“Who?”

“I dunno. Jill. Or Julie. Or something like that.”

That little name difference could be very important. “Who is she?”

“I dunno,” Zach repeated. “But that’s what he said, Mom. I was going to tell Uncle Paul, except the man in black saw me and told me not to tell anybody.”

“Did he say he’d hurt you?”

“No, Mom. But he was kinda scary.”

Liz hissed, “We’ll sue the SOB.”

I couldn’t believe how angry I was that Garrett scared Zach. That he threatened Calabria again and lied about it. Maybe he did tell Paul, but Paul never mentioned it to me. I was certainly going to tell Paul, first chance I got.

I felt a sense of unease. One of the two guests who provided alibis for each other had threatened the victim. My brother definitely needed to know.

“If anyone ever tells you not to tell me, you be sure to come straight to me and tell me. And I want you to stay away from the dude in black, Zach. Do you understand?”

He nodded his head and silently, I promised Robert that I would protect our child from any harm.

* * *

With Zach’s hand in mine, we walked back inside. Garrett loped up the stairs, and Zach tightened his grip on my hand.

I was ticked off all over again.

Lonny came up and told me they were ready to leave. I pulled him close. “Lonny, would you take Zach with you to your place for a few days? Please?”

He smiled warmly. “Sure. Come on, Zach. We’ll go play with my brother’s new puppy.”

Zach’s eyes lit up. “Cool.”

It took only a few minutes to pack a bag for him, and I watched them drive off on my snowmobile. I knew I was overreacting, but I felt great relief at having Zach gone, and safe. I knew I could trust Lonny to watch over my baby.

Liz pulled on my arm. “Follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I followed her up the stairs. On the second floor, why was I not surprised to find Martha leaving Garrett’s room? I truly was amazed. The woman was a sexual barracuda.

The barracuda waved and smiled happily. “Hi, Mistress of the Mansion. I’ve decided to stay another night or two.” She winked. “Especially if that heavenly hunk is still cooking.”

I said, “Keep your hands off the hunk.”

Liz laughed and Martha, obviously amused, raised her hands, and repeated, “Hands off the hunk. Gotcha.”

Despite myself, I liked the old barracuda.

Garrett stepped into the doorway of his room and joined the conversation. “Hi, Vicki, Liz. Martha and I are going skiing later. I hear it’s great and it’s a short snowmobile ride from here to the slopes.” He glanced at me. “Isn’t that right?”

I suppressed my anger and tried to respond normally. “You are just a few minutes away from the greatest snow on earth. Even our license plates say so. Snow Haven.”

Liz said, “We have some of your books and were wondering if both of you would autograph them for us.”

They were more than willing to do so. Martha said she’d be down shortly, and Garrett followed us. I resisted the urge to push him down the stairs.

In the office, as he pulled out a pen, Liz said, “I understand you know Jill. I’m wondering how she is.” Count on Liz to jump right in.

“There are lots of Jills. Can you be more specific?”

Liz smiled. “The Jill who was being taken advantage of by Mr. Calabria, of course. The one worth making a threat over.”

Garrett shrugged easily. “If Gregorio was still alive, the two of you would have made a threat by now. Even the Pope would have, if he’d been around the man long enough. More specific, please.”

“Apparently, Calabria was hurting Jill. And you knew about it. And wanted it to stop. Or it could have been Julie.”

Something flickered across his face— anger? Irritation? Guilt? — then hid behind his cool eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“So you don’t know a Jill or Julie?”

He shook his head. “They’re common enough names, but they didn’t come up in conversation this weekend.”

Liz smiled sweetly. “How about stealing money?”

“Ah, now that I did discuss with Gregorio. I had evidence he was skimming money off the top. Not that he needed to. After all, he was already getting three times what agents normally take.” He stood and stretched. “What I’m wondering is how this has any relevance to what’s going on? The murderer was taken into custody. We watched him go.”

“Nothing,” I said. “But you frightened my son. I don’t take kindly to that.”

He looked me in the eye. I could tell that he knew I knew he threatened Zach. “I figured he didn’t need to be involved and was hoping he’d forget it. Stuff like that can be traumatic for a child.” He smiled. “With Kevin gone, let’s put all this behind us. Would you like to go skiing with us?”

“No, thanks.” I was extremely glad the guests would be leaving the Inn for the day. “But you have fun.”

* * *

When Mom called from Spain to ask how things were going, I didn’t mention the murder because it would just worry her and she couldn’t do anything about it. So I got straight to the part about losing my wedding ring. And that started me sniffling. By the time we ended the five minute call, I needed a Kleenex. I found one in the kitchen.

I wasn’t sure why I was crying so much over Robert this weekend. It had been nearly a year since his death. I must have somehow skipped this part of the mourning process; and it caught up to me with a vengeance.

When the door opened, I turned away, but not before I saw David’s smile turn to concern. He closed the distance between us and put his arm around my shoulder. I barely knew him, but I went into his arms and cried for long minutes before I could regain control over my emotions. I felt like a slobbering fool.

But David pulled up some chairs, and handed me more tissues. He even caught the next tear that made its way down my cheek, which was a very tender thing for him to do.

“Vicki, I cut my finger and—” Liz stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to visit Robert’s grave as soon as the storm lets up,” I blubbered, my hands twisting a dry tissue.

David took one of my hands and stroked my arm soothingly. The shock of a man touching my hand nearly did me in. He wasn’t Robert, but there was something gentle and caring about him that made it okay.

“I’ll go with you.” Liz shook her sore fingers. “But first, I need your peroxide.”

“Somebody left the bottle on the washing machine. But by now, the deputies have probably dusted it for prints. Paul knew about it.”

After regaining my control, David let loose of my hand. I knew it was appropriate, yet I felt lost. He said, “Someone must have been trying to get blood out of clothes. They call me all the time to donate since I’m Mr. O-negative. Very popular with the Red Cross ladies. They used peroxide like magic to get some splatters out of my white shirt.”

“Why then,” I wondered aloud as I realized the peroxide was on the washing machine for a purpose, “if it works so wonderfully, did the clothes in the washer still have blood stains?” Paul was right— someone went to a lot of trouble to make it appear as though BJ tried to wash the blood stains from her clothes. And Kevin didn’t have access to the washing machine. Or had he been inside my inconsistently locked house more than once? Or, even more frightening, all along?

Chills skittered up my spine and unease settled in my chest.