Murder at Redwood Cove (16 page)

Darn. I forgot to floss. I eyed my clothes and the robe. Which should I put on? The robe covered most of my ranch pajamas. I hadn't heard any noise from Scott for a while. It would be a quick trip to the bathroom. I wanted to get back to the warm bed as soon as possible.

I put on the robe, picked up the flashlight, and opened the door an inch. There was a light under Tommy's door, but I didn't hear any movement. Tiptoeing to the bathroom caused only a few creaks from the aged wooden floor. I closed the bathroom door, flossed, and got ready to dash back to my room. I opened the door and peeked out. All clear. I took a step, and Scott came out of Tommy's room.

Caught. Murphy's Law at work.

He grinned. “Time to brush my teeth and call it a day.” He glanced downward, and the grin widened. “You have animals running all over your clothes.”

“Yes, I know.” I lifted my chin as the raging heat of a blush engulfed my face and silently dared him to say another word.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and said, “'Night, then.” He turned to the bathroom. “I hope the sound of galloping hooves doesn't keep you awake tonight.”

I closed the bedroom door a little harder than necessary. If running horses kept me up, I hoped a few of those Legos would come alive and clomp around his room.

T
he alarm buzzed, and I reached over and pushed down the button. Snuggling into the cloudlike covering of down, I relished the warmth. But only for a moment. It was hard to get up, but sleeping in was a luxury that would have to wait. I threw the covers back and turned on the lamp next to the bed. The soft glow revealed the oak nightstand. Its sheen spoke of years of polishing. I rolled out of bed and put on the workout suit I'd placed on a chair last night. I preferred morning for exercising. It was so much easier when I was still half-asleep.

I flipped the switch for the overhead lights and began the series of kicks and punches I had put together. A chair went flying and hit the wall, the accidental recipient of a back kick. I bent down and straightened it.

“Kelly, are you okay?” Scott shouted and pounded on the door.

“I'm fine.” I rushed to the mirror over the bureau. My bangs stood straight up. I frantically ran my fingers through them, attempting to brush them into place.

“I want to see you're all right.”

“Really, everything's fine.” I tried bending the bangs down.

“I don't know that until I see you. Someone could be making you say that. Open this door now, or I'm coming in.”

“Hold your horses.” Could've thought of a better phrase than that, considering my embarrassment last night.

I cracked the door open. “See?”

I was the one who saw. Scott in a snug T-shirt and sweatpants. There was no question he worked out.

“All the way open so I know no one is there.” His brows were knit together so tightly they must've hurt.

I swung the door open. “Just me.”

His face relaxed. I was struck by his concern and felt guilty for not responding more quickly.

“Sorry to be so demanding. I was worried when I heard the loud thud. What happened?”

“Knocked over a chair. Not quite enough room for me to do my exercise routine.”

“I'm glad you're fine. I don't know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee. Would you like some?” He headed for the cottage's kitchen.

“Yes, I'd love some. I'll go with you.” I touched his back lightly, and he turned. “I feel bad about upsetting you.”

“No problem. I'm on edge. After what you told me, it's clear something dangerous is going on. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

Other than family, no one had ever said that to me. It felt good to hear.

Helen had left filters and a jar of finely ground coffee next to the coffeepot. I prepared the top compartment as Scott filled the pot with water.

“What do you do for exercise?” He poured water into the coffeemaker.

“I practice tae kwon do, or did, when I was in San Francisco. It's based on what I learned from that.”

“What level did you reach?”

Why did I always feel hesitant to tell people? It was one of the most important accomplishments of my life. “Black belt.” I didn't look at him. I took a couple of mugs off the hooks on the wall.

Scott let out a low whistle. “Impressive. I know who to hide behind if the going gets tough.”

I looked at him, feeling the all-too-familiar warm tingle spread over my face. “We never had to exercise on the ranch. Day-to-day living did it for us from early morning until time for bed. When I left there, I tried workout videos. Not for me. I wanted to do something with a purpose.”

Enough coffee had brewed for two cups. He poured it and placed the pot back.

I took a sip of the hot, dark liquid, savoring the smell as much as the strong flavor.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I'm a gym person. It works well, considering the number of hotels I stay at.”

I wanted to say it showed. Instead, I checked the clock over the stove. “Helen's starting to put breakfast together. I want to go help her.”

“Count me in.”

We walked back down the hallway and went into our respective rooms to change clothes. I decided to make life simple and went with black stretch jeans, a white shirt, and my black fleece vest with the silver accents. I fought some more with my hair, added minimal makeup, and headed out.

Scott sat in a brown leather lounge chair in the front room, reading the local paper. “Ready?”

“As much as I'm going to be.” I grabbed my coffee mug from the table.

The first rays of sunlight had awakened the birds. Twitters, chirps, and an occasional loud caw from a crow stationed on the whale-shaped wind vane filled the still, moist air. I took a deep breath, relishing the intermingled scents of flowers and the ocean. Early morning was my favorite time with nature.

I tried the handle of the back door of the inn. Locked. Through the window, I saw Helen pulling bowls of fruit from the refrigerator. I knocked.

Helen hurried over and unbolted the door. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Fine. The comforter is scrumptious.”

“Glad to hear it.” Helen frowned. “Tommy, where are you? You were right behind me a minute ago.”

Tommy shuffled into the kitchen, eyes half-closed, hair rumpled, dog-shaped slippers on his feet, velour ears flapping. His pj's were covered with dogs of different shapes and sizes. Fred stumbled along behind him.

“I went to get Fred.” He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. “He was zonked out. I had to shake him to wake him.”

“Time for breakfast.” She patted the counter, then turned to Scott. “How did you sleep? I kept thinking of you on that little bed with all those animals staring at you.”

“No problem. I boned up on my dog breeds and checked out the impressive Lego structures.” He chuckled. “It was fun.”

Tommy settled himself on a stool, and Scott sat next to him. “I like your pajamas.”

I took the place next to Scott.

“As a matter of fact, I saw some similar to those recently, only they had horses on them.”

I stepped hard on the toe of his hiking boot. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention.

Scott pulled his foot out from under mine and gave me an impish grin. He turned to Tommy. “I enjoyed all your dog pictures. What kinds of dogs are on your pajamas?”

“I dunno.” He looked at them as if for the first time. His eyes opened wider. “This is a golden retriever, and this one is a chocolate lab.” He went on identifying each canine. Luckily the pattern repeated itself. “They only show the common breeds. The American Kennel Club recognizes eight hundred and sixty-five breeds. One of the newest ones is the Black Russian Terrier. It was developed by a military kennel named Red Star. It's a combination of rottweiler, giant schnauzer—”

Helen interrupted, “Tommy, Kelly and Scott have a lot to do. I'm sure they appreciate what you're sharing. However, I want you to eat your cereal and then get dressed. It'll be a busy day with the festival going on.”

Tommy's eyes flew open. “Yeah. I've heard people talking about all the chocolate treats that'll be there.”

“You know you can only have a limited amount. You'll need to choose carefully.”

He looked crestfallen. “I know.”

“But you can get some samples for another day.”

All smiles again. “Thanks, Mom.” He grabbed his spoon in the middle of the handle and began to shovel in his cereal.

Helen picked up Fred's dish, opened a covered container by the back door, scooped out two cups of dried dog food, and placed it in the dish. Fred jumped up and down as best he could, considering his short legs and heavy torso.

Helen placed a platter of golden muffins spotted with red raspberries on the counter and bowls of fruit in front of Scott and me. Blueberries mingled with bananas and bright green slices of kiwi fruit in freshly squeezed orange juice.

“Would you like something more? I'd be happy to fix you bacon and eggs.”

“This works for me,” I said.

Scott had already started on a muffin. “These are delicious. I won't need anything else.”

“I'd like to deliver some of the breakfast baskets while Tommy is here with you,” Helen said. “Does that work with your plans?”

“You bet.” I took a sip of my now-tepid coffee.

“Tommy, I want you to stay with Kelly until I get back.”

Tommy mumbled an agreement around a mouthful of cereal. Helen picked up two baskets and left.

Someone knocked on the back door. Scott got up and opened it. “Hi. How can I help you?”

A gangly young man in a red plaid flannel shirt and oil-splattered jeans stood in the doorway.

“I'm Chet Wilson, part of the festival setup crew.” He rubbed his hand down the leg of his pants in a futile attempt to clean it and held it out.

Even from a distance the grime under his nails was visible.

Scott shook it without flinching. “Scott Thompson.”

Chet shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, his shoulders hunched forward. “We had one of the main tent poles fail during the night. We're trying to find any extra hands so we can get it fixed in time for the event.”

“Let me finish a few things here, then I'll be out.”

Chet's rocking movement stopped. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” He grabbed Scott's hand again and began pumping it vigorously.

Scott extricated his hand. “Happy to be of assistance. We want the chocolate and wine festival to be a success.”

“I need to attend to the guests, or I'd help,” I said. “We have another person coming in later. I'll send him.”

“That's great. Cool.” He was now standing a bit straighter, as if pounds of trouble had rolled off his shoulders. “I'll get back to work. See you in a bit.” He left at a trot.

Helen came back as Tommy got up and put his bowl in the sink.

“I'm going to get dressed now, Mom.”

“Wait.” Helen looked at me. “I need to go with him. He can help me deliver baskets when we come back, and we'll be able to get the breakfasts out on time.”

“Okay. I'll finish putting them together.”

They left, and I prepared the remaining baskets. Scott put dishes in the dishwasher.

“Kelly, I want to speak to you in private for a few minutes,” Scott said when we were done. There was no lightness in his tone. “Let's go somewhere where we won't be interrupted.”

“Okay.” What was up? “We can go in the study.”

When we got there, Scott closed the door. “Kelly, I want you to be careful.”

“I am. I—”

He put his hand on my shoulder. “I mean it. You're asking questions. This is a small community. Whoever did these things knows you're checking into what's happened.”

Goose bumps covered my arms. He was right. I'd already seen how fast information spread through town. Like my poison oak after a night of mindless scratching in my sleep.

“We're backup for each other right now. It's a two-way street. We need to communicate with each other where we are at all times. We're a team. That's what the company rule is about. Protection for staff and guests.”

“Right. It makes sense.” The goose bumps were still there. “I won't go anywhere without telling you.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “Promise?”

It was a fair question. I hadn't exactly followed protocol in Colorado.

“I promise.” Our eyes met. I meant it.

Scott let go of my shoulder. “I know you keep your word.”

I now had a partner. New concept.

We walked back to the kitchen.

Helen picked up the last couple of breakfast containers. “This will do it.” Tommy was next to her, holding a basket, his hair combed back. Fred had been put in his crate by the back door. Mother and son left to finish the morning rounds.

“I'll go see what I can do to help with the tent.” Scott headed for the door, but before he could leave, Stanton's cruiser pulled in.

Now what.

The policeman got out, shoving himself up from the driver's seat.

Scott opened the door and waved him in. “I'm Scott Thompson with Resorts International.”

“Deputy Sheriff Stanton.” He plodded up the stairs.

I saw no spring in his step. “Hi, Deputy Sheriff Stanton.”

“Ms. Jackson.”

The men shook hands. “Glad to meet you.” The deputy walked in. He tossed his hat on the now-familiar counter and slumped down on one of the stools.

The creases in his face were canyons, his eyes the color of a blood-red sunrise. The stubble on his chin was the silver of sagebrush and sure to feel as prickly. “Ms. Jackson, when was the last time you saw Jason Whitcomb?”

I thought for a moment. “It was yesterday afternoon, after the festival committee meeting. Why?”

“He's dead.”