Death in Room 7 (Pine Lake Inn Cozy Mystery Book 1) (3 page)

My stomach wanted to growl at the thought of eating so late, and I knew it would mean cold sandwiches unless Rosie had some leftovers in the huge kitchen refrigerator we could warm up.  Still, I was just happy to have Jess here.  I could hold off eating for a bit if it meant visiting with her some more.

Standing up with her we gave each other another hug.  “Glad you’re here, Jess.”

“Likewise, Dell.  Wake me for supper.  Then we can start to paint this town red.”

We both laugh at that joke.  Even though I’ve heard it before.  Lots of times.

***

Living in Lakeshore means getting used to the color white.  A lot of white.  Let me explain why.

Australia, including Tasmania, was a dumping ground for criminals’ way back in the late 1700s and into the 1800s.  They were sent here as slave labor, most of them, and others got sent over just to get them away from the decent folk.  ‘Course, it wasn’t called Tasmania back then.  Back then it was Van Diemens Land after the leader of the Dutch East Indies.  Wasn’t until around 1856 that the name got changed to Tasmania.  Guess everyone thought “Van Diemens Land” sounded too much like The Demon’s Land.

We already have the Tasmanian Devil as part of our image.  I think it’s best to stay away from demons and devils altogether.

So anyway.  Criminal types got sent here, to Tasmania, and the good Lieutenant Governor David Collins whose portrait George wants to hang so badly in the lobby of my Inn was responsible for making sure they all stayed in line.  Thing is, not every criminal wants to stay locked up even when the prison’s in such a nice place as this.  Whole groups of prisoners escaped to become bandits.

Bushrangers, they were called.  Living and thieving and generally causing trouble from out in the bush.  In 1813, bushrangers came to Lakeshore.  They burned most of the town.  Stole the gold from the mayor’s house.  I’ve read there were a few deaths.

After they left, the town rebuilt itself.  That’s the way of it here in Australia.  You get knocked down, you get back up.  Lakeshore wasn’t a rich community back then so the townsfolk used what they had at hand.  When the houses and buildings were reconstructed, they painted them with whitewash.  White, as far as the eye could see.

Down through the decades Lakeshore has continued to paint its buildings white.  Kind of a nod to our history.  Lots of history in Australia, and we’re proud of it.  Still, that’s a lot of white all in one town.

My Inn is one of the few exceptions.  A sunflower yellow.  Pretty, and most people appreciate the change from all of our white.  I had to get a special permit just to do it though.

Walking up the street now, past white houses and white stores and our one simple white church, I come to the fountain in the middle of Main Street.  I really do have things to take care of but I take a moment to watch the tiny trickle of water coming out at the top of the three tiers.  It used to pour out gallons of fresh water, gushing in a tall spray, but in the last few years it’s gotten less and less.  No one knows why.

I love this town.  Ever since I came here I’ve loved it.  Everything about it, even the pathetic cement fountain.  It’s usually quiet and peaceful here.  We have our troubles, but they soon go away.  There’s nowhere else on Earth I’d rather live than right here.  Even when I’m just out running errands.

The Milkbar is my first stop, picking up a few things like shampoo for myself, and some groceries that Rosie needs for a special desert she’s making tomorrow.  Paper bags in hand I head over to the post office to collect the Inn’s mail.  Gary the postmaster asks me how business is, and I ask the same of him.  “Slow,” he says, just like always.  “The Internet’s gonna kill letters just like video killed the radio star.”

That joke is always funny.  A little more funny to Gary than it is to me, but still.

On my way out of the post office, I see a familiar face coming in.

“Hey, Mom.”  Kevin smiles at me, tall and strong in his dark blue uniform shirt.  His auburn hair used to be down to his shoulders but he’s kept it buzzed short since getting hired at Lakeshore’s police force.

It was a proud day for me when Kevin came to work here.  I let him know about the position as soon as it came open, never thinking he’d actually want to come live in the same town his mom had moved to.  He’d always wanted to be a police officer, though, and the timing was right.  Now I get to see his freckled face every day.  We look a lot alike, me and Kev.  Everybody says so.

“Hey there,” I say to him, awkwardly balancing my packages and my mail to give him a hug.  “Off duty?”

“Yup.  My shift ended an hour ago.  Just getting the mail and then heading home.”

“Stellar!  Have time for dinner?  A friend of mine from University stopped by.  Love for you to meet her.”

“Oh, sorry Mom.  Can’t tonight.  I’ve got a…thing to take care of.  Lunch tomorrow?”

“Sounds great.”  He’s hiding something, that’s easy enough to see, but boys will be boys and a few secrets never hurt anyone.  “I’ll see you then.”

Another hug, and we go our separate ways.  On my way back to the Inn I start whistling.  The sun is high in a blue sky streaked by pure white clouds.  Birds are calling to each other on a nice, warm breeze.  I can’t imagine a more perfect day.

Back at the Inn I bring the foodstuffs to the kitchen and put them away.  Paul offers to help me but I know his shift is long over and he’s only hanging around because he’s a dedicated man.  Wish I could give him more hours than I do, but the Inn has a budget, so I send him on his way.  Have to agree with Jess.  He is nice to watch when he’s walking away.

Ahem.  Guess it’s been a while since I had some male companionship of my own.  Maybe, I think in passing, it might be time to open myself up to the possibility.  Maybe.

Rosie is nowhere to be found.  Dinner is in full swing now, and the servers are taking care of everyone just fine, but I can’t imagine Rosie leaving her kitchen at a time like this.  One of the other servers, a woman about my age in a white shirt and black vest like the rest of them, tells me that Rosie said she had to run home to her husband and left early for the day.  I ponder on that as I leave the kitchen.  Maybe Josh was sick.  Rosie was a very devoted wife.  She was devoted to her kitchen too, and usually that took precedence over anything except Armageddon or an outbreak of smallpox.  I doubt that Josh has smallpox.

The mail comes with me back to the registration desk.  When I’m gone, Rosie is supposed to do double duty as the face of the Inn, here at the desk.  I check the sign-in book and see that no one has registered since I’ve been gone.  It really hasn’t been all that long, after all.  This is about the right number of guests for this time of year.  Just enough to make the place cozy and the dining room full of tourists and local residents alike.  Summer in Australia is something everyone should experience once in their life.

I get to do it every year of mine.

The unicorn necklace that Jess gave me catches my eye.  Smiling, I lengthen the cord just a bit and then slip it on over my neck, putting the unicorn down inside my shirt.  I can feel it there, nestling like a little good luck charm.

A few hours pass like they usually do in Lakeshore.  Quiet and peaceful.  The phone rang twice, with no one there.  Just static.  I tend to listen to the static more closely nowadays, ever since I started giving serious thought to whether ghosts can use phones to communicate.  I never hear anything but white noise, in case you’re wondering.

At a little past seven-thirty I decide I can’t wait for Jess to wake up.  I’m hungry.  Laughing softly to myself, I head up the stairs hoping she won’t be too mad if I wake her up just fifteen minutes earlier than we had agreed on.  Of course she won’t.  What’s fifteen minutes between friends?

I knocked on her door.  Then I knocked again, a little louder.  She didn’t answer.  Ear to the door I knocked again.  “Jess?”

Still no answer.  Must still be asleep.  She had sounded so tired when she came upstairs.  Long drive.  Sounded like a lot going on in her life, too.  Best to let her rest.

We could always catch up tomorrow.

My telephone rang in my room early the next morning.  Like, early enough that the sun was only a thought on the eastern horizon across the lake.

It kept ringing, and I thought about smashing it to bits with the nearest heavy object.  I decided against that plan but only because it would cost too much to replace.

“You’re lucky I can’t live without you,” I mumbled to the annoying little contraption.  It’s made to look like an antique stand-up style phone even though it has a push-button keypad.  There’s one in each of the rooms.  Just one of the many touches I use to make the place special.

On the next ring I grabbed the receiver up and angrily growled, “Hello.  What?”

“Is this Adelle Powers?” a male voice asked me.

“Hmph?  Who is this?”

“I said,” the man repeated, his tone annoyed, “is this Adelle Powers?”

Something about the phone call made me sit up straight in bed.  “I’m Adelle.  Most folks call me Dell.  Now, who is this?”

“This is Horace Sapp.  Don’t remember me?”

Now I did.  Horace.  Jess’s boyfriend.  Well, husband now.  The hazy fog of sleep parted for me and I could recognize the inflection in his voice, the condescending tone he put into every word.  Just like back in Uni.  I hadn’t actually spoken with him since then.  Jess and me had spoken a few times, e-mailed and sent cards, too, but I haven’t heard from Horace since—

“Are ya still there?”

“Uh, yeah, Horace.  I’m still here.  It’s…”  A check of the clock showed me exactly how early it was.  Scrubbing my hand over my face I manage to suppress a sigh, and then a yawn.  “It’s early.  What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for Jess.”

Jess had said she was here to take a break from Horace.  I just assumed she’d told him where she was going. 

Obviously not. 

“Uh, shouldn’t you just call her mobile, Horace?”

“Tried that.  She didn’t answer.  Funny thing, though.  Just got a charge report on me credit card.  Seems she just checked into the Pine Lake Inn.  So I look online and find out our old friend Adelle Powers runs the place.  Surprise, surprise.  So.  Where’s my wife, Adelle?”

Oh, I really do not want to be in the middle of a domestic spat.  I should hang up the phone.  Hang up, then leave it off the hook, and get back to sleep.  That’s what I should do.  Only, Jess is a friend of mine, and she needs my help. I can’t just pretend it’s not my problem.  Time moves on, but friends are forever.  Or at least they should be.

So.

“She was here, Horace.  She said something about taking a vacation.  I think she mentioned Southport.”

There was a long pause on the line, and I very nearly hung up right then.  Maybe I should have.

“Adelle, I know she’s there.  Don’t lie to me!  So help me, I will come down there and find her meself.  Hear me?”

Loud and clear, I think to myself.  “Listen, Horace—”

“No!  You listen to me.  I want to speak to my wife…”  Part of what he said was cut off by static.  “…she doesn’t know…”  More static.  “…tell her!”

Then a harsh burst of static cut his voice off completely, and there was only white noise.  “Hello?” I asked.  Nothing.  Just static rising and falling, a noise that was oddly soothing.  Lulling me back toward sleep.

Horace had sounded pretty furious.  That was going to cause some problems for my little Inn if he made good on his threat to come looking for Jess.  I sighed, sitting there, listening to a phone call that wasn’t there anymore.  I had been so happy when Jess came.  It was supposed to be so much fun.  Now this.

I remembered Rosie saying that Jess brought trouble with her no matter where she went.  Maybe this was the proof of that.

Well.  Nothing I could do about it tonight.  This morning, I mean.  Damn, it was early!  The static was a soft lullaby in my ear, and I knew that I could at least catch another couple of hours sleep before I had to tell Jess the bad news and get her to give up the whole story of why she was here.  There was obviously more to it than she was letting on.

I laid down against the pillow, the phone’s receiver still to my ear, and let the hissing, popping, shushing noises lead me toward sleep.

…Night, Dell…

I could almost hear those words whispered in my ear.  For some reason, it made me smile.

That’s the last thing I remembered until I woke up again, later, with the sun bright in my windows and the alarm clock chirping at me.  Seven o’clock.  Ah, the glamorous life of a small town Inn keeper.  Ha.

A shower gets me ready for the day, although a cup of Rosie’s coffee will do wonders for my soul.  I take out my favorite blue dress to wear, the one with the white down the sides and the black circle at the waist like a wide belt.  Then I think better of it and pick out a pair of dark jeans and a loose, breezy black top instead.  If I’m going to give Jess a walking tour of the town that winds up with us both at the Thirsty Roo, then I think dressing practical is going to be the order of the day.  Best to be prepared for whatever might happen.

Jess.  I frown at myself in the bathroom’s mirror, and sit on the edge of the tub to tie up my sneakers.  She needed to know her husband was on his way, probably, and that he wasn’t what you might call in a good mood.  Also, I think she owes me a bit of an explanation.

Locking the door behind me, like I tell all my guests to do, I walk downstairs to the second floor and start down the hall to Jess’s room.

Mister Brewster is standing in the middle of the hallway.

Maybe it’s just coincidence that he’s looking right in my direction.  He smiles that cold, lifeless smile of his and then turns around, down to his room, and disappears inside.

For a man who doesn’t come out of his room much I sure do run into him a lot.  Been here a long time, he has.  You’d think I’d be used to him by now.

Anyway.

At Jess’s door I knock.  Then knock again.  Oh, come on.  “Jess,” I call in to her, loudly enough that I probably woke up some of the other guests.  I knock a third time, and then once more.

No answer.

With a weary sigh, I have to wonder just what Jess has gotten me into.

I have spare keys to all of the rooms, of course, for emergencies.  I know as soon as I turn away and head downstairs that I’m going to get the key from behind the registration desk to let myself in and wake Jess up.  No way she was that tired from her drive here.

So why isn’t she answering?

Maybe she got up before me and went out on the town.  Might be she was even in the dining room eating breakfast.  We start serving at six in the morning, just simple fare like scrambled eggs and bacon and pikelets.  The regular servers can make all of that up.  Rosie comes in early on the weekends and then we have things like dippy eggs and vegemite soldiers.

I look into the dining room, glad to see the small crowd laughing and talking and eating, but Jess isn’t there.

Now I really wish I’d gotten her mobile number from her yesterday.  I could at least call it and see if she was out and about.  Oh.  I could call her room.  Best to start with that before bursting in on her, I suppose.

Behind the front desk I dial the three digit extension and listen to it ring on the other end.  I let it go on for far too long.  She’s not answering.

A little sense of dread spreads over me.  Time to get the key and check her room.  The spare keys are on the peg board in the wooden cabinet set into the wall behind me, all in order, on their own hooks, one per room.

The hook for Jessica’s room is empty.

As I’m looking over the other keys to make sure it hadn’t accidentally got put in the wrong spot I hear the front door open.  It’s Rosie, all cheerful smiles and whistling some tune I can’t identify.

“Morning, Dell,” she says to me.  “The hubby and I had the grandest time last night.  I was thinking of trying that new soup for lunch we talked about.  What do ya think?”

She sees the look on my face and tilts her head to one side.  “Hey.  What’s wrong?”

I tell her about the phone call from Horace, and about how I can’t get Jess to answer the door to her room, and about the missing key from the pegboard.  If ever a woman’s face so plainly said “I-told-you-so” it’s hers, right now.

“Well,” she says out loud.  “She’s probably out on the town, like you thought.  Let’s give her a bit and then panic after that.”

“I don’t know.”  I lean on the edge of the registration desk, tapping my fingers, thinking.  “If Horace is on his way here now it seems we should find Jess sooner, rather than later.”

“Or we could just let her problems belong to her,” Rosie suggests.

I study my friend’s expression, trying to read what I see there.  This isn’t like Rosie.  She’s usually nice to everyone, happy to give everyone the benefit of the doubt and go out of her way to help.  Now that Jess is here it’s like someone spit in her porridge.

She turns under my scrutiny and heads straight for the kitchen.  “I’m sure she’ll turn up.  Ooh.  Turnips.  In the soup.  Perfect!”

“Rosie, come on,” I plead with her.  “Jess is our friend.  What’s wrong with you?”

She stops, her back still facing me, tugging at the sleeves of her white blouse.  “Maybe Jess and me were never the good friends that you thought we were.”

“What?  What does that mean?”

After a quiet moment where I can hear the clock ticking and the drone of conversation in the dining room, Rosie turned to look up the stairs.  “It means we probably should go check on her.”  She didn’t quite look back at me as she added, “Dell, there’s some things you should know ‘bout Jess.  Things I never said back at University, ’cause you and she were such good friends.”

“Rosie?  What are you talking about?”

Her gaze went back up to the stairs.  “I’m saying…I’ll tell ya later.  Let’s go check on her.”

It wasn’t said with a lot of enthusiasm, and I still wanted to know what Rosie was talking about that could have been so bad, but that tingly feeling all up and down my back was still there, and I decided we could wait to talk about the old times.  I needed to see if Jess was still in her room.  If she wasn’t, my first instinct was to call Kevin up and have him and some of his police buddies go looking for her around town.  She couldn’t have gotten far.  I had seen her car still in the parking lot through one of the windows.

Besides the spare keys to the rooms, I have a master key as well, something every smart Inn owner should have in case of a guest who doesn’t want to leave or such.  That’s in the wooden cabinet, too, behind the peg board, with the keys to the rental car I keep for the Inn and a few other things as well.  Swinging the peg board out I get that key, close the cabinet up, and start upstairs with Rosie.

She doesn’t say anything to me the whole time.  Her lips are pressed tightly together in a frown.  In fact she looks like a woman on her way to her judgment.  Maybe I should have asked her before agreeing to let Jess come and stay here.  I just never thought it would be this much trouble.  She’s my friend.  That’s all that should matter.

I’m not sure Rosie would agree with me.

At Jess’s door I insert the key and then wait, knocking one last time, calling out to her again, telling her we’re coming in and she’d better be decent.

The joke falls flat when there’s still no answer.  I look at Rosie.  Her eyes are a little unfocused, her expression grim, as if she knows what we’re going to find in there.  For a moment I hesitate, not sure I want to know what Rosie apparently already suspects.

Gathering my courage against…well, I really didn’t know what, I pushed the door open.

The smell hit me first.  A coppery tang mixed with damp wetness.  There’s only one thing in the world smells like that.

Blood.

Then I saw her.

Rosie lifted her hand to her mouth with a gasp and then turned away.  I couldn’t.  Turn away, I mean.  I couldn’t turn away.

Jess sat in the room’s only chair, over in the corner by the window.  She sat very stiff, and very pale.  She was still wearing the clothes she had on yesterday.  Like she’d never even gone to bed.

On the floor at her feet were pools of drying blood.  Streaks of it ran down her arms from the uneven, jagged cuts in both wrists.  Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, her head rolled back.

Jess was dead.

Nausea broke over me in waves as I slowly closed the door again.  I made sure to lock it with my master key and then I took Rosie by the hand.  Together we went downstairs silently, without a word, to call my son. 

It was time to call the police in.

***

“Didya check for a pulse?” Senior Sergeant Cutter asked me in the second floor hallway.  For the fifth time.

Angus Cutter was a tall and muscular man.  I’ve always suspected he had been a body builder, once upon a time.  His white hair was shaved close down to his scalp.  His face was clean shaven except for that white handlebar mustache he sported that framed up his square jaw.  Gold clusters sat on the shoulder lapels of his stiff blue uniform shirt.

The man looked like a bull who’d learned to walk upright.  He had the personality to match.  Blunt, direct, and narrow minded.