A Matter of Wife and Death (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 4) (8 page)

Chapter 15
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I had a break between grooming clients, so I wandered up to the boarding house to see if there had been any developments.

Cressida was sitting on the front steps, her head in her hands. “The Little Tatterford and Shire Council is sending an inspector here today.” She sighed and rolled her eyes at the thought.

“Why would they?” I said. “The police are treating Lisa’s death as suspicious.”

Cressida sighed and looked away. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s a good thing. It’s like someone at that place has a grudge against me.”

“Unless that awful Cynthia Devonshire from the B&B in town has a friend who works for the council, I honestly don’t think she’d have that kind of influence.”

Cressida frowned. It was clear that she was overwhelmed with anxiety. “You never know, Cynthia Devonshire could be more powerful than we realize. Have you spoken to Blake recently?”

“No,” I said, my heart sinking. “Not since the other day. Why?”

“Oh, just wondering,” Cressida replied. “I was wondering if you thought I should notify the police about the shoes that went missing.”

That caught me off guard completely. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Cressida’s face contorted, and the makeup around her eyes cracked. “I don’t really think it pertains to the case at all.”

“You and I think that, but what if we’re wrong?”

Cressida wrung her hands. “But then Dorothy will become a suspect.” She shrugged. “At least that would make Mr. Buttons happy.”

I thought for a while. “I suppose we need to do what’s right,” I said.

Cressida’s face softened. “Yes, that makes sense,” she said.

Mr. Buttons hurried over to us. “What are you two gossiping about?”

“Sibyl and I were talking about whether or not to inform the police about Dorothy stealing the shoes, and we came to the conclusion that we should tell them,” Cressida said.

Mr. Buttons nodded. “Yes, the police need to know that she hid her theft from them,” he said. “It shows that she’s deceitful.”

I was waiting for Cressida to disagree when a white truck pulled up suddenly, spraying gravel everywhere. Cressida stopped mid-sentence and looked panicked when Franklin Greer climbed out of the car.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Upthorpe,” he said. “We’ve met before. As you know, my name is Franklin Greer, and I’m from the Little Tatterford and Shire Council. I’m here to inspect some of the key features of this establishment. I’m going to let you in on one little secret.” He smiled a thin smile.

The man stood wordlessly for some length of time, so Cressida finally broke the silence. “What’s the secret?”

Franklin Greer smiled in an evil manner. He reminded me of a villain from a comic book. He turned his head and spoke in a low voice. “We have some inside information that this boarding house is not operating under the correct procedural and structural guidelines and standards. Failure to comply with any of our requests, whether they be for information, documents, customer and guest information, or anything of the sort that we deem necessary, will lead to the temporary closure of this establishment for an indefinite period of time, or until the issue is resolved in a satisfactory manner set forth by the Little Tatterford and Shire Council.”

“Yes,” Cressida finally said. Her voice was filled with fear and concern. “Give me a few moments to make sure that the guests vacate their rooms for your inspection.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Franklin Greer said, his smirk spreading. “I’m stopping all operations of this establishment at this time. All guests will need to vacate their rooms until further notice. We will not evict you, the owner, or your family, but that is all we’ll allow here until the business license is restored. That will happen upon one of two things, when a complete and lengthy inspection reveals no proof or signs of structural or procedural violations, or when violations are discovered, but fines and repairs are made by the offender as ordered by the Little Tatterford and Shire Council.” He smiled in a smug, threatening way. “I believe that means you will be one of the guests vacating your room,” he said, looking at me.

I resisted the urge to stomp on his foot. “Actually, I live in the cottage out back. I don’t board here, so I get to stay, too,” I said.

Franklin Greer ignored me. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to Mr. Buttons.

Mr. Buttons glared at him. “Yes?”

“Are you a guest here?”

Mr. Buttons looked like a deer in headlights, frozen and unsure of what to do. I wondered if time was at a stand-still in his mind, while little gears spun around, trying to come up with the right solution to his quandary.

Cressida walked to position herself between Franklin Greer and Mr. Buttons. “What are you talking about?” she said. “Mr. Buttons is my boyfriend. He lives with me,” she said, defiantly.

I was surprised that Franklin Greer fell for such a blatant lie, but he did. His face fell with disappointment, but then soon lighted up when one of the young environmentalists hurried out the front door.

“Who is that?” he asked Cressida.

“He’s Peter Steele, one of our guests,” Cressida said, honestly. “There are others.”

“All right, thank you for your cooperation.” He smiled in a sadistic way as he approached the guest. The young man then went back into the boarding house.

Franklin Greer walked back to us. “I will inform all the guests that they will no longer be able to reside at this establishment. They are going to be packing up and vacating within a few hours.”

“You can’t be serious!” Cressida’s voice was a wail. “Where will they go with no notice?”

“To the new Bed and Breakfast that’s just opened up in town. You know of it, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m well aware,” Cressida growled. “You’re kicking out my guests and sending them to my biggest competitor?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s our policy.” He did not sound at all sorry.

Cressida’s sadness turned to anger. “You can’t close the boarding house before the investigation!” she yelled.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Franklin Greer said, as he turned away.

Cressida walked after him. “The police are investigating it as a homicide,” she said to his back.

Franklin Greer stopped walking, and turned back to Cressida. “I understand that, but until we investigate the integrity of the building and see that proper protocols are being followed, it’s a risk we can’t take. Please evacuate your guests and allow us to conduct our inspection.” He smiled, looking like a spoiled kid who just stolen a second dessert when no one was looking. “Oh, I see there’s at least one more guest down here.”

Greg had just appeared. “Hey guys, what’s up?” he said, as he walked over to us.

Franklin Greer squinted at him. “Good afternoon, my name is Franklin Greer. I’m from the Little Tatterford and Shire Council. We’re here investigating some possible issues with the building. If you’re a guest, we need to ask that you leave the premises as soon as possible, for safety reasons. That is, unless you are a member of Ms. Upthorpe’s family. Are you?”

“No,” Greg said. He was clearly unsure of how to respond to the situation.

“Mr. Greer, Greg is a close friend of mine,” Cressida said.

I watched Greg’s eyes flicker as he caught on to what was happening. “Yes, I’m just in town briefly and needed a place to stay. Cressida and I go way back and she allowed me to stay in a room as a family guest. I haven’t paid her a cent.”

“That means he’s not a customer or guest under business policy,” Cressida elaborated.

Franklin Greer tilted his head upward. “All right, I think we’re going to schedule a thorough inspection very soon. I’ll call you later with the exact time and date.”

“I thought you were going to do that right now?”

“No, we need to look over a few things and give those guests time to vacate the rooms. We will be in touch.”

Chapter 16
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I clipped the leash onto Sandy’s collar, and stepped out the door, to see Mr. Buttons walking to my front door, holding Tiny, Blake’s Chihuahua.

“What are you doing with Tiny?” I blurted.

“I was just on my way down here to walk Sandy with you, when Blake drove up. He said he was on his way to see if you’d walk Tiny today,” he said, “but he saw me, so he gave me Tiny and took off. He wants us to mind him for the day. He said he was in a hurry.”

More like in a hurry to avoid me, I thought. Blake’s sure been acting strange lately. He was probably overjoyed to see Mr. Buttons and thus avoid having to ask me to walk Tiny.

I shrugged. “Oh well, we might as well walk at the dog park today,” I said. “Can you hold Sandy while I go back inside to get my car keys?”

My feeling of being sorry for myself subsided somewhat when we reached the dog park. Sandy and Tiny both loved the dog park, with all the interesting smells of the kangaroos and rabbits.

Lately, I had been in the habit of keeping Sandy on her leash, even though it was a council-designated off-leash area, as we had both been threatened by an off-leash pig dog only weeks earlier. While I thought neither of us looked like wild pigs, this dog obviously had thought we looked like prey, and I’d had some scary moments before the dog’s owner managed to get control over the dog and drag him away. I was lucky that Sandy had been on her leash at the time. I had reported the incident, and found that there was a Dangerous Dog Order on the dog, and that the owner had disregarded it by allowing the dog off her property. Dogs are not the actual problem; it’s their owners, but nevertheless, there was no way I was letting Sandy off-leash in a public place again.

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t see that Mr. Buttons had let Tiny off his leash.

“Oh no, Mr. Buttons,” I exclaimed. “Keep him on the leash; it’s not safe.”

“What could possibly happen?” Mr. Buttons said. “He’s a well behaved dog. He won’t run off.”

I simply shrugged, and huddled into my scarf. I had a sense of foreboding, but no clue as to why. We hadn’t walked far when I saw a red, toy poodle approach, along with the person of Cynthia Devonshire. I had not groomed this poodle. It had a show clip, but I didn’t want Cynthia as a client at any rate.

When we drew closer to each other, she stopped, and looked down her nose at us. “I do hope your dog is a girl,” she said, in a snooty tone.

“Yes she is, why?” I asked her.

“It’s Gigi’s time,” she said in a lowered tone, while looking around the grounds furtively.

“Her time?” I said, followed by, “Oh. Well, she shouldn’t be out in public, surely.”

Cynthia shrugged. “She’s a small dog. I can easily pick her up if any male dogs approach. Gigi loves her walks, and I thought it was cruel to keep her locked up. I’ve been coming here at this time for days, and I haven’t seen a single other dog at all. Just as well, as Gigi is an Australian Champion show poodle. It’s very hard for the reds to do well, you know. Her real name is Floudles Princess Gigi Auburn Luxe. Floudles is my registered kennel name.”

“What a lovely name,” I lied, but was prevented from saying more by an ear-splitting scream. I looked down at my feet to see Cynthia lying face down on the dirt, her fingers trying hard to hang onto the last vestiges of Gigi’s leash as it slipped through her French-polished fingertips.

Tiny had appeared on the edge of the gully, and clearly, Gigi found him highly attractive. Gigi took off toward the edge of the gully, and both dogs disappeared out of sight.

“Watch them!” Cynthia screamed at Mr. Buttons.

“You want me to watch them?” Mr. Buttons asked. I had no idea why he was puzzled, but after Cynthia screamed even more loudly, “Yes, watch them!” Mr. Buttons hurried into the gully.

I tried to help Cynthia to her feet, but abandoned that idea after she called me a few words that would even make my cockatoo blush.

So I stood there, waiting for Mr. Buttons to capture Tiny and return, trying not to watch Cynthia as she climbed to her feet. I knew that Tiny had not been neutered yet, as he had a little abnormality and was on medication. Once that worked, he could be neutered. I hoped Mr. Buttons caught Tiny before the inevitable happened, but judging by the sound of rustling bushes at the bottom of the gully, I figured that the inevitable was already in process.

After what seemed an age, Mr. Buttons appeared, with Gigi in his arms and Tiny on the leash.

Cynthia snatched Gigi from Mr. Buttons’ arms. “What happened?” she screamed.

“Yes, I can confirm,” Mr. Buttons said, nodding his head.

I was puzzled, and was about to ask what he meant, but Cynthia beat me to it. “What do you mean? Confirm?” she bellowed, clutching her little dog to her chest.

It was Mr. Buttons’ turn to look confused. “You told me to watch,” he said. “I thought that was strange, but I did as you asked. I did watch, and so I can confirm that Gigi and Tiny will be parents in the coming months.”

Cynthia’s complexion turned from white, to green, to purple-red, all within seconds. She then let out a stream of expletives, and finished by screaming words which included sue and lawyers, before storming off.

“She’s a strange one,” Mr. Buttons muttered.

I just stood there. What could I say?

The heavy presence still hung on the air when I dropped off Mr. Buttons and Tiny at the boarding house and continued down to my cottage. It was with a sense of dread that I let Sandy into the back yard after her morning walk and headed back up to the boarding house. I waved to Greg, who was just setting out on his daily walk.

I walked inside to see a busy Cressida running around this way and that, clutching papers in her hand.

“Morning,” I said.

Cressida looked up at me for a moment, but her eyes fell back to her notepad. She scribbled furiously, before looking back at me and smiling. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make sure everything is just perfect so that horrible Franklin Greer will have no excuse for shutting the place down. It’s so stressful,” she groaned.

“Look on the bright side,” I said, in an attempt to cheer her up. “No annoying guests to deal with other than Greg.”

Cressida put her papers and pen on a nearby burr walnut credenza, and rubbed her temples. “There’s just so much work that goes into preparing for a huge inspection like this. They could find any stupid, little thing. Even something as small as a faulty wire could shut us down for months, and cost tons in renovations and repairs. I just want it to go smoothly and have nothing else crazy happen. At least for a few days!” Cressida took a deep gulp of air before sinking into the nearby worn, Victorian grandmother chair. Its upholstery had seen better days, but that was the least of Cressida’s worries.

I leaned against the credenza, careful to avoid the fortune’s worth of Mary Gregory ruby glass that adorned every available space. “It’ll all work out. We’ll be fine in the end,” I said lamely.

Just then, I heard Mr. Buttons’ voice outside. Another voice joined his. It sounded more like painful moans than conversation. The door flew open to reveal Mr. Buttons helping a dirty, disheveled Greg into the boarding house.

“Someone almost killed me!” Greg yelled. He separated himself from Mr. Buttons and stepped forward, limping badly. “I’m not sure who it was, but I saw the make and model of the car, and got most of the license plate. I’m a number off, but I think that should be enough for the police. I just couldn’t tell if the last digit was a three or an eight. It all happened so fast.” He took a deep breath and wiped some dirt from his face.

Cressida and I looked at each other before both turning toward Mr. Buttons. The three of us traded glances, clearly trying to tell each other how shocked we were without uttering a single word. “Are you hurt?” Cressida asked him, clearly concerned.

“Yes, of course I’m hurt,” Greg snapped. “I just told you that someone tried to kill me!” He was hunched over in a semi-standing position with his hands on his knees. After a few quiet moments, he stood slowly before speaking again. “It was a dark blue Honda Civic. It looked like a newer model, and I got most of the license plate, but not all of it. I was lucky to see it at all, as the car drove straight for me. I only avoided the thing ‘cause I jumped out of the way at the very last second.”

“Greg, sit down, dear,” Cressida said, as she walked closer to him. She gently gripped his hand and led him to the grandmother chair on which she had been sitting. “We’ll get Blake down here so you can file a report.”

“I’ll call Blake right now,” I said, pulling out my phone. I stepped away from the others, as the phone continued to ring.

“Hello, Sergeant Blake Wessley.”

“Hi,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn red. “I was just calling to let you know that we have a situation. Looks like another crazy thing happened already.”

“Excuse me?” he said, clearly confused.

“Greg just went out for a walk and someone tried to run him over,” I blurted.

“Really? Well, I’ll head down there now to take a report.”

“Thanks, Blake.” I ended the call and rejoined the group.

Greg was still talking about the incident as I approached. “I swear, they were trying to take me out, whoever it was. Maniac!” His voice rose in volume. “First they tried to make it look like a simple accident, but since that backfired and hit the wrong target, the murderer’s going all out to get the job done. This is ridiculous! Those tree hugging hipsters need to be run out of this town!” He waved his hands in the air dramatically.

“I just got off the phone with Blake, and he’s on his way,” I said. “Greg, shouldn’t we call an ambulance or take you to the hospital?”

Greg shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I’m just stiff and sore.”

I watched Greg as Cressida fussed over him, trying in vain to make him agree to go to the hospital. He was covered with dirt and had several rips and tears in his clothing. There was a black mark on his face, but I couldn’t tell if it was a bruise or simply dirt.

When Blake arrived, Greg once again went into detail about his near miss, and how he maneuvered out of the way just in time to avoid being hit, and thus either killed or seriously wounded.

“I think there’s a strong chance the same person just tried to kill me a second time,” Greg said, through clenched teeth.

Blake nodded, and then turned to Cressida. “So, I heard there was another issue here recently also. Something about the victim’s missing shoes?”

“Oh, yes. It was just a big misunderstanding, but we sorted it all out. We have the shoes bagged in that brown container right there,” Cressida said calmly, pointing to a bag at the front door.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll be taking those into evidence. What can you tell me about them and how they were taken?”

“Our cook, Dorothy, and Lisa had a bit of an argument the night before she died. Greg noticed that Lisa’s shoes were missing and mentioned it to me, and after a little digging, we found them. Dorothy stole the shoes so she could prank Lisa with some stinky fish or something. When the body was found soon after, Dorothy panicked and cleaned the shoes before returning them to the Lost and Found.”

“Is Dorothy here right now?” Blake said. “I’d like to have a word with her, if I may.”

“She has the afternoon off, but she’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Cressida,” Blake said. “I just have one question that’s bothering me. Did the protesters who were boarding here get forced out by the council?”

“Yes,” she said.

Blake jotted down some notes in his pad and looked back up, his face partially obstructed from my view. He leaned forward. “I don’t know what happened, but I will find out.”