Death Checks Inn (Aspen Valley Inn 1) (3 page)

Joan said, “It was me, I called.
”

The deputy who had been going from room to room came over to Wyatt and
said, “There’s no one else here. I’ve called for the coroner. Anything else?”

For a moment, no one spoke and Lacey could hear the steady tick tock of the antique clock on the wall. As the horror of what had happened sunk in Lacey began to shake. Wyatt reached over and held her arm as if to support her if she fainted.

He turned her to face him and said gently, “Do you know this man?”

Behind him at the top of the stairs,
she met Heather’s teary gaze and said, “It’s her husband. Her dead husband.”

Wyatt spoke softly, “I can see that he’s dead
.”

“No, no. You don’t understand
,” said Lacey, “her husband Adam died several years ago.”

Heather sobbed loudly and
Joan and Suzy seemed to be supporting her, one on each arm.

Wyatt looked down at the body and asked
, “Is that a railroad spike in his chest? Where did that come from?”

Pale and shaken Lacey said
quietly, “I think I know where it came from. Come with me, I’ll show you. ”

She led him to the top of the second floor landing and continued down the guest hallway. About half way down she stopped and pointed. She was pointing to a
n art niche carved into the wall, one of several located in this hallway. This particular niche contained a display of old mining equipment. Amongst the gold pan, small tools and implements were a couple of similar metal spikes.

She reached to pick up one of them and Wyatt grabbed her arm
. “Don’t,” he said, “evidence.” Still holding Lacey by the arm Wyatt steered her back to the small group on the landing. He looked around at the stricken faces and announced, “This is now a crime scene. No one is to leave the premises. Please do not touch anything until we can process the scene. Each of you will need to be interviewed. Lacey is there somewhere private where we can conduct the interviews?”

Lacey thought quickly and then suggested the small library off the reception area. Several more people came in the front door. Lacey assumed these were the coroner and the crime scene tech
nicians.

Wyatt was huddled deep in conversation with the group downstairs. Lacey
gathered the stunned guests and led them to a tiny sitting area at the end of the hall. Surely they could wait there at least until the body was removed. No one spoke as they sat on the small couch and chairs grouped invitingly near a huge window that looked out over the back of the property. Lacey noticed that night was fading and the pale light of dawn was just beginning to appear. How did this happen? Good God, was someone right here in this group a murderer? As she looked around from face to face, she could tell that this horrible thought had also occurred to the others. How had someone else gotten into the Inn? She knew she had locked everything up tight. However, the victim had gotten in. How? Why? So many questions.

She heard her
sister, Charlotte’s voice downstairs, “I don’t care about your rules. I’m going to see my sister!” She hurtled up the stairs and engulfed Lacey in a comforting hug. She took off her sweater and placed it around Lacey’s shivering form.

Lacey now realized she was wearing only a tank top and boxer shorts. Joan and Suzy were dressed in a similar fashion. Heather Mason had on
a robe, as did the honeymoon couple. She hoped that they would be allowed to dress properly before being interrogated by the officers downstairs. She had to wash the blood off her hands. She turned to Charlotte and asked, “How did you know?”

Charlotte spoke drily,
“With all the commotion and vehicles heading up here, who doesn’t know something happened? I didn’t think I would see a body. I thought maybe someone had fallen or something.”

Oh,
how I wish that were all, thought Lacey.

An officer accompanied each one of them to their rooms while they cleaned up and got dressed.
A technician took a photograph of Lacey’s hands and then told her she could wash them. Three technicians roamed the premises taking pictures and dusting surfaces with black powder. Thankfully, the body had been removed presumably to the morgue. One by one, they were lead into the library to talk with Wyatt and a Detective Peterson, borrowed from the Colorado Springs police department. Lacey was last.

Just like the others, Lacey was photographed and fingerprinted.
She told them everything she knew, which wasn’t much. Wyatt only asked a few questions, leaving most of the discussion to Detective Peterson. She felt self-conscious with Wyatt’s eyes on her as she carefully considered and answered each question. How well did she know her guests? Had she known the victim? What did she see? What did she hear?  On and on the questions went, many being asked several times but in different ways.  Finally, both men seemed satisfied and told her she could go back to her guests. Gratefully, she left the library. In the hallway, she smelled the tantalizing aroma of her green chile breakfast casserole. Bless her sister, she had gathered the others in the dining room and was urging coffee and warm plates of casserole on everyone. No one really ate much but they all seemed relieved to at least pretend to do something normal. Heather Mason was pale and silent. She stared out the windows with an occasional stifled sob. Lacey went over to her and asked if there was anyone she could call for the poor woman.

“No,”
Heather said wanly, “Adam and I were both only children and we never had kids. I have no one.”   

 
“Do you mind telling us about Adam?” asked Lacey. “How did he die?”                                                   

“It was a car accident and I don’t want to talk about it,” said Heather.

Lacey could see that everyone was exhausted and suggested they all retreat to their rooms to rest. Everyone seemed grateful for the suggestion and quickly headed upstairs.

Charlotte was busily cleaning up the remains of a barely eaten breakfast. Lacey stood looking out the large windows of the dining room. She had wanted these windows to be placed right here and without the distraction of
windowpanes or even curtains. This was because they perfectly framed the magnificent view of Pike’s Peak and the front range of the Rocky Mountains. Even now, she marveled at the beautiful scene before her. The sky was a brilliant and clear blue with just a wisp of cloud shaped like a finger. The cloud finger seemed to point directly at the peak. The wispy finger seemed to be saying, look, look at this! She wondered how everything had gone so horribly wrong. They had gone from beautiful and charming to ugly and horrible in just a matter of hours. Only yesterday, she was excited and nervous about the grand opening of her beloved Inn and now today her entire world was under a dark gloomy cloud of horror and suspicion.

Charlotte
came up behind her and tapped her gently on the shoulder. She turned to see Wyatt standing there in the kitchen.  For just a moment, he looked at her with such compassion that she almost burst into tears but instead she squared her shoulders and caught her breath. He asked her if she would mind coming in to the library to talk. She had already told them everything she knew but suddenly felt so tired that sitting for a few minutes would be welcome. He led her into the quiet nook and indicated she should sit on the deep leather sofa near the window.  Officer Peterson was not in the library.

She had chosen every piece of furniture in this room specifically to encourage curling up with one of many books located on the massive built in bookshelves. Again, the windows were positioned to take advantage of the views and there was a cozy river rock
fireplace, which remained unlit, as it was unnecessary in the middle of June.

Her musings were interrupted by his quiet voice
asking, “How are you? Are you okay?”   

She
sputtered, “How do you think I am? Someone was killed right here. And I’m not stupid, I’m pretty sure one of my guests did it!”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I know you are a smart woman and I want to know what you think,” he replied. 

“
I don’t know what to think. Mrs. Mason says the dead man was her husband, but how can that be? He died several years ago,” Her face mirrored the confusion and shock that filled her thoughts.

He sat down next to her on the sofa and gently took her hand
s. She looked down at their entwined hands, again seeing that gold band and thought that he was probably trained to be comforting when talking to potential witnesses. He’s not available she told herself, this is just business to him. Even knowing that she couldn’t help herself from feeling some spark, something exciting just being close to him. This close she noticed that his bright blue eyes had gold flecks and he smelled clean and fresh even though she knew he had had a long morning.   The house seemed quiet and she guessed that the swarm of people who had been everywhere earlier had left. Now they were analyzing, testing and doing whatever it is they do to put the pieces of a murder together. She still couldn’t believe that this had happened.

He asked her again if she was okay and then held his hand up to block her rep
ly.

“Of course not
,” she repeated.

He tried a different tactic
, “Tell me about yourself. Are you from Elkville? Do you have other family besides Charlotte?” 

She took
a deep breath and gave him a brief summary of her life. She had grown up in Denver, gone to college in Colorado Springs and Boulder but had fallen in love with Elkville when she found this dilapidated property.

She had spent almost a year
pouring her money and time into transforming the place into this beautiful retreat.

She had coaxed her sister, Charlotte to come and help her. Their parents were gone and their other sister, Vernie, was an occasional visitor in their lives. She hadn’t had time to really meet and get to know her neighbors but had felt welcomed in the community. At least until she brought a murder into their midst she added.

He smiled slightly at her sarcasm and asked
, “What about a boyfriend?”

Her face immediately closed up and she
couldn’t believe he was asking her something like that. She shut that line of questioning down with a curt, “There is no one.”

He said, “Okay, okay, I shouldn’t have asked that. Thank you for filling in your background. It’s very helpful. Now it’s my turn. I’ll tell you a little about myself.”

Wyatt said
, “I’m from Chicago. I served in the Major Crimes division for ten years right after getting my criminal justice degree. I’ve investigated more than my share of murders.”

  She did feel somewhat more confident knowing that he had a crime solving background but disappointed that he had added no personal details to his life story.

“I’m going to share with you what I know so far. I’m hoping I can count on your help in getting this solved. Okay?” he asked.

She quickly
agreed, saying, “Yes, whatever I can do.”

She
listened intently as he filled in some background for each of her guests. The Braverman’s were indeed newlywed and had no criminal record.

Joan Black and Susan Clark were students at
the University of Colorado, Boulder and did not appear to have anything unsavory in their past.

Heather
Mason, however, was another story. Her mouth dropped open as he told her that while it was true Adam Mason had died in an apparent accident there was much more to the story. His partially submerged car had been found abandoned in a lake near their home. The circumstances were very suspicious. His body had never been found. Wyatt expected the body found here at the Inn to be confirmed as Adam Mason. The Topeka police department had shared with him their unanswered questions about Adam’s apparent death and Heather’s lack of assistance in their investigation. Their conclusion was that something was not right in this case but they had no evidence to prove their suspicions.

After the mandatory wait of seven years, the court system had declared Adam as deceased and Heather Mason had collected on a one million dollar insurance policy. The payout doubled because Adam’s death was ruled an accident. She had spent the last six months fulfilling the “bucket list” that she and her deceased husband had created together.

Lacey was
astounded. Heather Mason had seemed so ordinary. She had also seemed genuinely shocked at the discovery of the body at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you saying she is a murderer?”
she questioned.

“No, I’m saying some parts of her story don’t add up and if indeed that body is Adam Mason we need some answers
,” he responded.

Her brain was
reeling. He went on to tell her about some of the forensics. There had been no fingerprints on the railroad spike that had been plunged into the victim’s heart. This implied someone cleaned up after the crime because Lacey’s fingerprints should have been present on the display piece. This wound was expected to be the cause of death. Time of death would be very close to the time the body was found. There were no signs of forced entry. The victim had most likely been let in by someone inside the house.