A Fatal Twist of Lemon (18 page)

“The police searched this room pretty thoroughly. If your earring was in here, they probably took it away.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you're right.” She sounded forlorn, but allowed me to help her to her feet, brushing at the knees of her slacks.

“Shall I find Bob for you?”

“He went home to check on our guests.”

“Let me walk you over there, then.”

“No, no.” She seemed to gather herself, straightening her blouse and glancing at me with an embarrassed smile. “Thank you, but I think I can make it across the street by myself.”

I went out into the hall, got a skeptical look from Gina, and held the door open for Katie. She gave the dining parlor a last, worried look, then came out. I turned off the chandelier and closed the door.

“It was a lovely party,” Katie said as we walked to the front door, Gina a few steps behind.

“Thank you, Katie. Thanks for coming. Would you like some scones for your guests?”

She smiled and seemed to relax. “That's sweet of you. Thank you.”

“I'll get them,” Gina offered, and strode off toward the kitchen.

Katie and I stood in the hall in awkward silence. I wondered why she'd slipped into the dining parlor instead of asking me about her earring.

“I hope the earring wasn't irreplaceable,” I said.

She brushed her hair back from her face. “Oh, well. It was my mother's, that's all. Not terribly valuable, but I'd like to have it back.”

I nodded. “I'll keep an eye out for it, and ask the girls to do the same.”

Gina returned with two carry-out boxes, which she handed to Katie. She gave me a curious glance.

“Thank you, Ellen,” Katie said. “I do wish you the best with the tearoom. This week has been—difficult.”

Gina let out a crack of laughter. “You can say that again!”

I shot Gina a quelling look as I unlocked the front door for Katie. We said goodbye and I watched through the side lights as Katie went down the path to the street, then crossed and went into the B&B.

“Lost an earring, huh?” Gina said as I turned away from the door.

“Maybe she really did.”

“Yeah, right. I think she was looking for something incriminating.”

“What would that be? We know what the murder weapon was.”

“I don't know! A blackmail letter?”

It was my turn to look skeptical. “I'm sure the police collected all the blackmail letters when they went over the room.”

Gina shrugged. “What were you going to tell me about that room, anyway? Other than the fact that it induces bizarre behavior in anyone who goes near it?”

“Let's get some tea and go upstairs. It's sort of a long story.”

We brewed a pot of Wisteria White and took it up to my suite along with the savories Julio had saved for me and a plate piled with petits fours and strawberry puffs. Kris came out of her office with her coat over her arm just as we reached the top of the stairs.

“Got the reservations entered,” she said. “I'm heading home.”

“Okay, thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Here's some scoop I found. Didn't have time for a lot today, but it's a start.”

She handed me a page of typed notes under a heading of “SYLVIA CARRUTHERS.” I glanced up at her, surprised.

“Thanks! This is excellent.”

“I can do more tomorrow. See you in the morning.”

“What's that about?” Gina asked as we went into my suite.

“Oh, she offered to find me some information about Sylvia Carruthers. I wanted to know if she had interests beside historic preservation.”

“What?” Gina said in mock indignation. “Are you implying she would spend an instant on anything other than The Cause?”

“I just wondered.”

We made ourselves comfortable in my suite with the food and the teapot on the little table between two overstuffed chairs. I poured myself a cup of tea and sighed after taking a sip. I was coming down from the high of the successful opening, and despite Willow's prediction, I still had plenty of doubts about the long term.

Food was a good cure for depression. I picked up a dainty watercress sandwich and bit into it without the least bit of daintiness.

“This isn't your dinner, is it?” Gina asked, watching me over her own teacup.

“Um—no, it's lunch. I guess I'll get to dinner around ten, if at all.”

Gina put down her cup. “That does it. I'm taking you out. You need a break from this place.”

I finished the sandwich and reached for a cracker spread with gooey brie. “Not tonight, Gina. I'm really beat.”

“When's the last time you left this house?” she demanded.

“I went out yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh.”

Her stern expression relaxed a little. I wasn't about to tell her I'd only gone out to talk to Claudia.

“So what were you going to tell me about the dining parlor?” she asked.

I picked up a knife and cut into the pâté, choosing my words as I spread some on a toast point. I decided on simplicity.

“I think it might be haunted.”

Gina gave me a pitiful look. “You
have
been stuck here too long. Come on, we're going to the Ore House for a drink.”

“No, I'm enjoying this. I hadn't tasted the pâté before. Did you try it?”

“It's fantastic. So are the shrimp. Don't change the subject.”

“I'm not. I think the dining parlor is haunted, and here's why.”

I told her about my adventures with the light in the dining parlor, including Mick's impersonation of the ghost and my excursion to the lilac bushes. Gina listened, shaking her head now and then.

“The fact is, I can't explain the light being turned on again and again. I'm positive I was the only one in the house. It must have been Captain Dusenberry's ghost.”

“Or Sylvia's?”

I looked at Gina. “I hadn't thought of that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Get a grip, Ellen. Obviously, someone snuck into the house while you were cutting the lilacs, turned on the light to freak you out, and then hid.”

“I don't think so. Not unless they spent the entire night hiding and then snuck out past Julio and me in the morning. Why would anyone bother?”

“Maybe it was Katie. Doesn't she serve tea, too?”

“For her guests.  She doesn't have a lot of room.”

“But maybe she's trying to eliminate the competition.”

I shook my head and took a sip of tea. “Our businesses are complementary. Besides, she's established, she doesn't need to worry about me and she's certainly too busy for such shenanigans.”

“What was she doing in there today, then?”

I sighed. “I don't know. Looking for an earring?”

“I don't buy it. She's up to something.”

I ate a deviled egg, refusing to be drawn into speculation about Katie. Gina picked up a shrimp, dangling it by the tail as she frowned in thought.

“This business with the light hasn't happened before, right? It started yesterday?”

“I don't remember it happening before, but maybe it did and I just didn't notice. Or maybe the murder and all the cops got the captain stirred up.”

“You've been listening to that ghost tour lady. Mm, good shrimp. What does he do to it to make it so wonderful? It's just a shrimp.”

“He makes his own shrimp boil. Secret recipe.”

Gina gave a blissful sigh. “Too bad he's so young, or I'd marry him.”

“Don't you dare!”

“Don't worry, I'm not a cradle robber.” She held out her empty teacup.

“You're not an old maid, either,” I said as I filled it, then topped off my own cup. “I've seen happy couples with a wider age gap. That's not permission to steal my chef, by the way.”

“Understood. And I wouldn't, anyway.”

“Yes, you would. You'd whisk him away to the Bahamas or someplace.”

Gina laughed, the throaty laugh that made her such fun company. “Only for the honeymoon! No, I'm working on Ted at the moment. Don't have time for another project.”

I gave her a skeptical look. “One at a time, eh?”

“I'm a serial monogamist.”

I looked over the wreckage of the savories, decided I'd had sufficient protein, and reached for a strawberry puff. Gina picked one up as well.

“Been waiting for you to do that,” she said.

“You didn't have to wait.”

“Yes, I did! Miss Manners said.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “This is hardly a formal dinner.”

“Yes, but you're my hostess and my dear friend and besides, if I don't have the willpower to resist gobbling these sweets on sight after stuffing my face with them downstairs all afternoon, then I'm a pretty sorry case.”

She grinned and popped the entire strawberry puff into her mouth. I laughed and did the same.

“Mm. Oh, Julio!” I lay back limply in my chair.

“If only he could see you,” Gina said. “
You'd
be the one going off to the Bahamas with him!”

“No, no. I don't mix business with romance.”

“
I
do.”

“Well, you can get away with it. You've always got more new clients. Has Ted told you much about his work?”

She shrugged. “Dinner conversation, yeah. He just sold a place near you, I think.”

I perked up at that. “The historic property?”

“Hm. Maybe. I don't really remember. Do you want me to ask?”

“Maybe not flat-out ask, but if you can get him to talk about it I'd be interested to know. Especially who bought it.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knee. “Is there a purpose to this snooping and pooping?”

“Well, yes. Sylvia was involved in an attempt to purchase a property for the Trust, and I think Ted might have been the seller's agent.”

“Oho!”

“The deal fell through when she died.”

I went on to describe the bidding war Claudia had mentioned, and how Sylvia's death had prevented the Trust's expensive acquisition. Gina listened, her eyebrows climbing higher.

“Did Donna know about all this?” she asked when I'd finished.

“I don't know. If she did…”

“I'd call it a pretty damn good motive for murder! Her mother about to spend half her inheritance on some old house that she wouldn't even own?”

I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. “I don't want to make assumptions.”

“Hmph. What about our charming detective? Does he know?”

I made a face. “Detective Arrogant? I haven't the slightest. Let's not talk about him.”

“Don't you like him?” Gina cocked her head. “I thought he was kind of cute.”

“Yeah, but he's—don't get me started.” I snarfed a petit four, then picked up the page Kris had given me. “Let's see what we've got here. Besides the Trust, Sylvia was a member of the Arts Council and the Historical Society. She was on the School Board from 1995 to 1999.”

“When Donna was in school,” Gina said.

“Yes, probably.”

“I bet she was on the board before that, it just wasn't on the web.”

“Maybe. Other than that, this all looks like Trust stuff. She's been in the papers a few times.”

Gina took the page out of my hand and glanced over it. “She sure kept busy.”

“She was a mover and a shaker.” I frowned, thinking. “Claudia Pearson said she knew about historic properties before they came up for sale. I wonder if the Arts Council and Historical Society were avenues of information.”

“Listen to you,” Gina laughed. “Ellen Rosings, Investigator Extraordinaire! I've created a monster.”

“Well, I'm just trying to puzzle it out. I mean, the sooner this murder is solved, the sooner I can get on with my life, with the tearoom.”

Gina put the notes down and reached over to clasp my hand. In the soft, jeweled light of the stained-glass table lamp, her dark eyes gleamed. “This has been tough on you.”

“Yeah, well. What's life without a challenge, right?”

I smiled at her, but in fact I was feeling a little low. Maybe it was just let down after the excitement of the grand opening. It had gone well. Now only time would tell if the tearoom was destined to survive.

“You know,” I said, “I think I'll take you up on that drink after all.”

We stuffed the leftovers into my mini-fridge and went downstairs. The staff had left, and the house was quiet. I waited for Gina to fetch her coat, then started toward the back door.

The light in the dining parlor was on.

I stopped and pointed to it, giving Gina a significant look. She shrugged. I opened the door, half expecting to find someone looking around in there, but the parlor was empty. Turned off the light and closed the door.

“Shall we walk?” I asked, opening the back door.

“Sure. I could use a stretch.”

The evening was brisk, but it was nice walking through downtown Santa Fe. The chill had kept most of the tourists inside, though there were a couple wandering around the plaza gawking at the empty gazebo and looking in the store windows.

Gina and I hurried across to the Ore House on the plaza's southwest corner. Not haute cuisine but it had a nice bar, served good margaritas, and had been around forever. We verified that the quality of the drinks was still up to par and stayed chatting over a second round.

Gina kept me laughing with stories of an obnoxious but high-paying client at work, and never once mentioned ghosts or cops or dead bodies, or even tea. I began to feel almost normal.

Finally we called it a night. Gina walked back with me to the tearoom, and we walked around to the rear of the house again, where she had parked her car.

“Well, goodnight, girlfriend,” she said by the door of her Miata. “See you soon.”

“OK. Have a great time with Ted tomorrow night.”