Checking Inn (5 page)

“Mother, please, can we not do this right now?”

“You always pick her side,” she says, and I notice the genuine hurt in her features. 

“Mom, I wouldn’t have told Vivienne.  I wouldn’t have told anyone!” I say, and when I look at the other women in the room staring at me I quickly amend, “I mean, besides the police.”

“I own the Inn too, you know; I got us the investment we needed and yet you treat me like I am a liability!”

I decide this isn’t the right time to bring up the insurance policy.  Or the time she set the kitchen on fire during a séance because she thought the mansion was haunted.  Or the time she hired a company to set fireworks off in the back property which sent one of our oldest trees up in flames.  There’s actually quite a few  stories involving fire, hence why I now keep a fire extinguisher in every room in the Inn.

“Honestly, can we talk about this later?” I ask with forced patience.

“Of course, I don’t want to be a bother,” my mother mutters.

“Okay, this is what we are going to do,” Detective Gable comes back and stands beside me with his partner standing behind him shaking his head.  He runs his hands through his wavy hair and now I have a better idea of why it looks so disheveled.  Whatever it is they have decided, I can tell that Detective Rice doesn’t like the plan.  “We are all going to leave this room and not breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“We are going to bring a team in–” he pauses as though he is unsure if he is capable of saying whatever is next. “We are going to bring a team in and instruct them to wear firemen’s costumes.  At this point the scene is compromised, and Becky has probably dusted away any prints we would have found in here, anyways.  The only thing I can see working at this point is for us to dust the room and hope we come up with some DNA or trace evidence, but my gut is telling me there isn’t any.  We need to let everyone else know as little as possible, lull whoever did this into a false sense of security, and hope they slip up somehow while we follow any leads and investigate.”

I’m at a loss for words.  I never thought he would agree.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Don’t thank me yet. I have a feeling this might blow up in our faces.”  The Detective’s eyes seek out Becky’s.  “Not a word to anyone.”

She nods and looks like she might not be able to say anything for the rest of her life.

“Her mom knows,” I say, and when he turns around I explain. “She’s the emergency dispatcher.  We’ll have to get to her quick because she’s the town’s biggest gossip.”

“No offense,” I add to Becky, but she just shrugs as if she’s not hearing anything new.

“Okay, Detective Rice will go and warn her.  She should still be on duty so hopefully she hasn’t had a chance to tell anyone yet.  If this is going to work, we can’t let anyone know, or else we go public.  I’ll stay here and lead the team,” Detective Gable instructs.

“Anything you need, I’ll make sure you have it,” I say. 

“I still can’t believe I am agreeing to this,” he mutters. 
 
“We’re going to need the costumes.”

I nod and write it down on the bottom of my checklist: 
get dozen fireman’s costumes from Party City
, when my eyes light up. 

“Oh! I’ve just remembered I have a coupon for purchases over fifty dollars.”

Four

“Sit!  Mommy said to sit!” I stare at the big brown eyes and count to ten.  “You can do this.  I know you can.  Sit!”

I am standing on my front lawn out of breath, with my hair all over the place, and a blister on my heel to add insult to injury.        

I plaster on a fake smile and wave to Mrs. Phelps as she drives by. 

Okay, I can do this.

“Maggie, mommy said to sit!” I try and use the commanding tone I was taught, but I don’t think either of us is buying it.

Maggie’s tail starts wagging as she bounces from side to side.

“That’s it, I’m not joking now. 
 
You come inside right now or I’m calling the humane society. 
 
They’ll come and pick you up and let me tell you, you can forget about your Royal Canine diet.” My words are met with a few barks.

I clench my fists in frustration and take a threatening step forward, but Maggie sees it as a never ending game and does a few laps around me– always careful to keep out of grabbing distance– before she resumes her stance of bouncing back and forth.

“Naughty girl!” I yell and stamp my foot, but I’m momentarily distracted by a black SUV pulling into my driveway. 
 
I frown when I don’t recognize the vehicle.

The car door opens and I feel my palms start to sweat when I see Detective Gable step out, wrinkly shirt and all.

“Having trouble?” he asks, nodding at Maggie.

“No, just playing with Maggie,” I say and shoot the dog a severe look so she knows I’m only being polite because we have company.

“She’s beautiful, is she a mix breed?” he asks.

“No, a purebred poodle,” I say with a hint of pride in my voice. 
 
I spent a month researching different breeds of dogs before I finally decided on Maggie. 
 
Not only because poodles are one of the smartest breeds, and the national dog of France (I’ve always wanted to go to Paris), but because they are very athletic and wonderful to train.

Except, I obviously got the lemon.

“Impressive,” he says and snaps his fingers. 
 
I watch, dumbfounded, as Maggie gets up and trots over to Detective Gable, sits beside his leg, and waits to be pet.

“How did you do that?” I ask, momentarily forgetting that I am supposed to be the expert.

“Do what?” he asks. They both look at me while he pets Maggie’s head.

That traitor.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.

I stayed at the Inn until the team of investigators arrived. 
 
True to his word, Detective Gable made sure they were all dressed in firemen’s costumes, though he drew the line and refused to wear one himself. 
 
I arranged a fire drill, getting all the guests and staff to stand on the back lawn while the ambulance came to the front to take Samantha’s body to the morgue. 
 
I actually felt pretty sad. I mean, not that she was ever nice to me, but to have your body removed and taken to the morgue like that, without anyone there to be sad about it, is very depressing. 
 
The detectives tried to contact her mother, but she is out of the country, and they couldn’t get a hold of her. 
 
I couldn’t think of anyone else to suggest they try to contact. 
 
I stood in the corner of the suite, watching as the team dusted everything. 
 
I watched as they put all her clothes in a bag, her toiletries in another: eye shadow, mascara, fifty shades of lipstick, a really pretty shade of gold nail polish and her toothbrush. 
 
They needed a separate bag for her hair products. 
 
They came out with a lot of bags labeled “evidence”, and about three hours later they were gone.

“Nothing so far– it’s going to take a few days for the lab to come back with anything, and we still haven’t been able to reach her mother,” he reaches down to pick up a ball that Maggie always keeps in her mouth.  I can see it’s shiny from her slobber, but I have given up trying to Lysol wipe it.  As long as it stays in her mouth, which it usually does, I just try not to think about it.  Detective Gable waves the ball in front of Maggie’s face and gets her to stand up and wag her tail before he throws it under the tree at the corner of my lawn.

Maggie rushes over to the ball, scoops it up and runs back to him, dropping the ball at his feet.  I have been trying to teach that dog catch for two weeks and I can’t even get her to let me throw it.

I’m demanding a refund from the training school.

“Well, that’s good.  I mean not 
good–
” I quickly amend.  “I just thought, because you came over, something might have happened.”

“No, nothing so far.  There is something I have to talk to you about, though–” he says, but is interrupted by my ringing phone.

“Sorry, it could be the Inn,” I say, rooting around in my purse.  Normally my phone is in the front pocket next to my package of Kleenexes but I must have just thrown it into the main pocket in my rush to get home to let Maggie out.  I don’t know what is happening to me today.

“Hello,” I say, bringing the phone to my ear.

“Hi Honey,” I hear the voice and automatically relax.

“Hi Viv, how are you?” I ask.

“Oh, not bad.  Nothing a good glass of wine wouldn’t cure,” she laughs at her own joke which makes me smile.  “The Cilans asked me to redo their living and dining room because their daughter’s wedding is coming up in a few months, but they won’t let me get rid of any of their old furniture.  And when I say old, I’m not talking about good old, I’m talking 80’s old.”

“You’ll convince them.  You always do,” I say, and watch as Detective Gable makes Maggie roll over before he will throw the ball to her again.

“Anyways, I can tell you all about it at dinner tonight,” she says.

“Oh, dinner.  I completely forgot,” I say, biting my lip and trying to think of a good excuse to cancel.

“Am I that forgettable?” she laughs again.

“No, of course not.  It’s just–” I pause.  I should really cancel the dinner tonight, but a part of me really wants to see Vivienne and Greg.  I know I can’t tell them anything about what is going on, but I don’t get to see them that often.  Work is really busy for Greg right now.  “Is six o’clock still okay with you?”

“Absolutely, and tell your mother I look forward to one of our lovely chats,” she says.  Vivienne is fully aware that my mother can’t stand her, and I think she enjoys watching my mother swallow her pride and be nice to her.  It’s actually one of the few things about Vivienne that irks me a little. 

“Okay, see you then,” I say, pressing the end button on my phone.

“Who was that?” Detective Gable asks, and at first I find the question a little rude.  I shrug it off, though, as it 
is
 part of his profession to be inquisitive. 

“It was my boyfriend’s mother.  We’re all supposed to have dinner tonight at the Inn,” I explain.

He nods, but doesn’t say anything else about it.

“So, you wanted to talk to me about something?” I ask.

“I talked to my captain about the case, and he isn’t happy with the way things are being handled.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up his hand. 

“I convinced him that given the circumstances, and the fact we haven’t found any physical evidence, we don’t have a lot of options.”

“And tell him your team is welcome to keep the costumes,” I say, “in case you guys want to use them again.”

“I didn’t tell him that part, I already got an ear full without it,” he says.

I feel a bit guilty at his confession because I know that if it weren’t for me and my staff his whole investigation would be further along at this point.

“I’m really sorry, I honestly didn’t mean to get you in any sort of trouble,” I say.

He finally smiles, and it softens his sharp features.  His hair is still really messy though. “When you’re a detective you are always in trouble, and when you finally catch the bad guy you’re lucky if you get a grunt of appreciation for your efforts.”

“Oh, okay.  Well, I meant what I said before, if there is anything I can do to help,” I offer.

“There is.  I need to stay at the Inn under the pretense of being a guest,” he says.

“What? Why?”

“You’ve made it clear you want to keep this under wraps, which I have agreed to, honestly because I think it’s the best chance we have of catching the murderer.  If I'm hanging around the Inn all the time people are going to start to get suspicious, but if I am a guest just getting to know people around the town and asking casual questions, hopefully people won’t catch on.”

That does make sense.

“Okay, not a problem,” I say, and then shake my head.  “Actually, there is a problem.  We are fully booked and the only room that is now available is– was– Samantha’s.”

“That’s okay, dead people don’t bother me,” he says, and I wish I was as lucky as him.  Standing in that room while the investigators were working, I had decided to redo the whole thing, including all the linens, to rid the room of any sense that someone might have died inside it.

“When do you want to check in?” I ask.

“I already have my suitcase in the car.  I was hoping we could do it now,” he says.

“I’ll call Luisa and tell her to get the room ready.”  I pull out my cell phone again and make the call.  After much reluctance on Luisa’s part to go in “the room of death”, I finally convince her.  Of course, I had to offer her a paid vacation to do it.

“I’ll just put Maggie in the house and meet you there,” I say.

“I can drive you,” he says.  “I noticed that you walked home, so it saves you walking back.”

“Oh– er– okay, thanks,” I say.