Dangerous Secrets (4 page)

Chapter 4

‶
Hot water,″ I groaned,
staring at the ceiling the next morning. I literally had to pull myself out of
that bed, which would′ve been right at home in a medieval torture
chamber. The fact that I couldn′t linger under a shower to ease the ache
in my back and shoulders didn′t improve my mood.

Maggie straightened painfully, her lips tight.
She didn′t complain, although I could tell she was hurting as much as me.

We took turns at the bathroom sink. I heard
water running in the other bathrooms on the floor below us, and swallowed a
pang of jealousy. With the liberal use of deodorant, I was sure we
wouldn′t offend any of the other guests. Maggie had a hard time rinsing
the shampoo from her hair. We only had two small towels and I was determined to
get more, even if I had to strangle Susan.

By the time we ventured down to the dining
room, two other couples were already there. We hadn′t met them the night
before, but I waved a perfunctory hello to the young couple closest to the
entrance. They looked as out-of-place as Maggie and me. Their clothes said they
couldn′t afford it, and they looked too young to appreciate the
experience. The well-tanned, muscular guy had a huge plate of food before him,
shoveling eggs into his mouth, while his blonde companion applied ruby polish
to her nails. An empty muffin cup sat on a napkin before her.

The other couple, probably ten years older than
the first, seemed engrossed in each other—perhaps they were there on a romantic
get-away as Susan′s brochure suggested. The pretty, longhaired brunette
gazed into her companion′s eyes, enraptured.

Maggie and I headed for the coffee pots.
Pouring our own, we settled at one of the empty tables.
‶
Now what?″ I
asked, looking toward the kitchen.
‶
Do they serve us like in a
restaurant?″

‶
Some inns and larger B and Bs
have a buffet,″ Maggie offered.

Revived by the aroma of bacon and sausage, I
knew food had to be nearby.

A beefy kid in his early twenties, with
sandy-colored hair and dark eyes, came out of the kitchen and placed a pitcher
of orange juice on the sideboard next to the coffee pots. A tattoo of a large
pink rose, pierced by a dagger dripping blood, decorated his bulging bicep.

He noticed us and strolled over.
‶
Hi,
I′m Adam.″

‶
Nice tattoo,″ I said.

The kid actually blushed and yanked his sleeve
down.
‶
Not
really. I’m saving to get it removed. Laser treatments aren’t cheap,
though.″ He cleared his throat.
‶
Our buffet has scrambled eggs,
bacon, sausage, home fries, fresh fruit, strudel, and three kinds of muffins.
Zack′s making blueberry pancakes or omelets. What′ll you
have?″

‶
I′ll take the blueberry
pancakes.″

‶
May I have a Western
omelet?″ Maggie asked.

‶
Sure thing. While you′re
waiting, you can check out the buffet.″ He pointed toward the kitchen.
‶
Follow
me.″

The kitchen radiated warmth and hospitality.
Whatever hostility I′d sensed from Zack the night before was either
suppressed or gone. Stationed at the big commercial stove, he wore a ratty old
sailor’s cap while flipping pancakes and nursing omelets along. He kept staring
at yet another picture of the
Sea Nymph
that was taped to the stove hood, while across the way Nadine, the young woman
we′d spoken to on our arrival, washed dishes. Adam gave Zack our order
and resumed chopping vegetables at the counter.

Maggie and I each took a plate and perused the
stainless steel warming trays on the center island. Just as Adam said, there
was enough food to feed an army. And as Susan had promised the day before, we
wouldn′t go hungry at breakfast. If I ate enough, maybe I could save on a
lunch tab.

Maggie chose carefully—a carrot muffin, two
sausages and a single pat of butter. Since I wasn′t getting paid for my
labor, and still suffered from that rock disguised as a bed, I loaded my plate
with bacon and a piece of strudel, determined Zack and Susan would pay for our
services, if only in food. My eyes were bigger than my stomach, however, and I
was stuffed by the time Zack brought my pancakes and Maggie′s omelet to
the table.

The daytime Zack was different from the
hard-nosed businessman I′d met the night before. He stopped at the other
tables, chatting with the guests, refilling coffee cups. Jovial, he was the
positive yang to Susan′s dour yin. Confusing, but I decided to
concentrate on the pancakes before me instead of our host. Even though I could
only eat half of what was on my plate, by the time Adam cleared the table I was
so full I could barely move. Maggie′s smile of contentment gave me warm
fuzzy feelings.

‶
We have to get to work,
love,″ I said.
‶
Susan said we could take pictures of Eileen′s
room this morning. Then we can do the dining room.”

‶
Do you think she′s
already gone for the day?″

‶
Let′s find out.″

We headed for the living room and the reception
area. Susan sat in front of her computer, half glasses poised on her nose,
looking older than she had the day before.

‶
Hi,″ Maggie said.
‶
When′s
a good time for us to take pictures of Eileen′s room?″

Susan looked up at us over her glasses.
‶
About
eleven o′clock. Ms. Marshall has already left for her meeting. Once
breakfast is over, Nadine will make up the room and you can set up.″

I glanced at my watch: it was already 9:30. Oh
well, that gave us a little time to check out the countryside.
‶
Sounds
good. After that, I′d like to shoot the dining room. Can Zack save
muffins or anything else to approximate breakfast?″

‶
No problem,″ Susan said,
sounding almost affable. With a little work, maybe she′d be a decent
human being. I pushed my luck.

‶
Great. By the way, could we
have more than two towels? Even though we don′t have a working shower, we
need—″

‶
Yes,″ she said curtly,
and turned back to her computer. So much for being a decent human being.

More or less satisfied, I turned to Maggie.
‶
How
about a short tour of the town?″

‶
I′d love it.″

I went back to the room, grabbed the camera,
and off we went.

We were about a mile from the inn when I slowed
the car and took special note of the countryside. Something about it bothered
me. Maggie looked around, puzzled. A car horn blasted behind us, so I stepped
on the gas.

‶
Did I miss something?″
she asked.

I was still in a fog.
‶
What?″

‶
Why′d you slow
down?″

‶
I don′t know.
There′s something about—″

‶
Uh-oh, you′re not getting
one of those funny feelings of yours, are you?″ She knew that meant
trouble.

‶
No. It′s just—″ I
groped for a plausible lie.
‶
I was wondering why Susan and Zack didn′t buy
a place closer to the village?″

‶
That′s easy. Money. The
farther from the village you are, the less the price. Also the less you can
charge your guests. But if you think about it, in the winter they′re
actually closer to Mt. Mansfield. If you′re a skier it all works out; and
maybe they can squeeze more out of those guests.″

I nodded, concentrating on the road, but I
could feel her eyes on me—studying me—until she finally looked away. I knew my
lie hadn′t fooled her, but she chose not to mention it.

Stowe′s a quaint little New England town,
but more commercial than some of the smaller villages. With an almost European
feel, its Victorian houses turned into storefronts, and shops with creaky
wooden floors, exude old-fashioned country charm. The town survives on tourism
in the summer and skiing in the winter, but there′s no denying the
surrounding scenery is beautiful no matter what the season.

Although most of the shops were just opening,
the streets were already filled with tourists. We found a parking space in the
municipal lot.

Strolling down the sidewalk, we paused in front
of a clothing shop, its carved doorway painted to look like gold leaf. Although
the summer wasn’t quite over, the energetically posed mannequins in the window
were already wearing $300 ski sweaters, looking like they might abandon the
village and hit the slopes at any moment. Despite my lack of enthusiasm, Maggie
dragged me inside to admire the designer wear.

‶
Isn′t there a bookstore
we can go to? Something at least marginally interesting?″

She grabbed an Aran sweater from a table and
held it against my chest.
‶
You′d look terrific in this. It goes so well
with your eyes.″

The tag caught my attention.
‶
Yeah,
and it would take me at least two paychecks just to buy it.″

With a martyr′s sigh, she folded the
sweater and replaced it on the table, then looked around the place.

‶
Can I help you?″ a young
woman asked. College student—or one of the marginally employed locals, I
guessed.

‶
No, thanks. Just
looking,″ Maggie said.

She nodded, and started to refold the sweater
Maggie had just put down on the counter.

Maggie wandered down the aisle, and then
pointed toward the back of the store. Ted Palmer was admiring himself in a
three-sided mirror while Laura Ross looked on critically. He studied his
reflection from all angles, pulling on the sleeve of a green sport coat.

‶
Come on,″ Maggie
whispered. She grabbed my hand and tugged me after her, darting amongst the
clothing racks. Crouching low, we duck-walked along the aisle until we could
hear their conversation.

‶
Maggie, this is stupid.″

‶
No, it′s fun!″ She
motioned for me to keep still.

‶
I don′t know,″
Laura said.
‶
Maybe
you should try the blue one on again.″

‶
Or I could just take
both,″ Ted said.

‶
Do you believe him?″
Maggie mouthed.

‶
No. And what′s more, I
don′t care. I feel ridiculous. Can we get out of here?″

‶
May I help you?″

A pair of polished Florshiems appeared next to
me and I looked up at a tall, elegantly dressed gentleman.

‶
Uh, I dropped something,″
I said, while Maggie smiled sweetly at him. I straightened, cleared my throat,
and helped Maggie to stand.

‶
Is there something I can show
you?″ the salesman persisted.

I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw
Laura looking at me as though I′d just mooned the joint.
‶
Uh,
no. In fact, we were just leaving.″

I grabbed a giggling Maggie by the arm and
steered her toward the entrance.

‶
Do you mind telling me what
that was all about?″ I asked once we were out on the crowded sidewalk.

She frowned.
‶
I′m sorry. It′s
just ... the inn is filled with such stuffed shirts, I needed to cut loose. Are
you mad at me?″

I gave her what I hoped was a stern look. She
struggled to keep a straight face, but I was the first to crack.
‶
Yes,
but it isn′t the first time and it won′t be the last.″

‶
Spying on the rich
folks?″ came a voice at the doorway. It was the young woman who′d
greeted us when we′d first arrived.

Maggie′s cheeks flushed.
‶
Were
we that obvious?″

She laughed.
‶
I’m afraid so.″

‶
They′re staying at the
same place we are,″ Maggie volunteered.

I nodded toward the lovebirds.
‶
Do
they come here often?″

‶
She dropped a couple grand the
other day. Hadn′t seen them before that.″

‶
Won′t you get in trouble
telling us this?″ Maggie asked.

She shrugged.
‶
I′m out of here on
Monday. Back to school.″

‶
Kathy?″ came a male voice
from inside the store.

‶
Gotta go.″ She schooled
her features before heading into the store.

‶
Two grand,″ I mused.

‶
When you’ve got it, flaunt
it,″ Maggie suggested.

I looked down the street.
‶
Anywhere
else you want to go?″

Her gaze traveled across the road to a store
placard that read
Everything Cows
.
‶
How
about there?″

Ten minutes later, our shopping expedition was
over. Maggie bought black-spotted cow salt-and-pepper shakers as a souvenir of
our Vermont trip.

‶
What′ll we do about
dinner tonight?″

Maggie clutched her gift bag and shaded her
eyes, looking toward a restaurant up the street.
‶
I don′t want to eat for a
week. How about that place?″

We inspected the menu, and the menus of every
other restaurant along the street, trying to narrow down the choices. We came
to no conclusions and decided we′d better start back for the inn.

It was close to eleven by the time we hit the
road. About a mile from the inn, I again got that sick feeling in the pit of my
stomach. I tried to take in as much of the scenery as possible, but could see
nothing but trees, meadows, and more trees. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I wanted to believe that odd feeling in my gut
was heartburn, but I knew better.