Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn (17 page)

“My lips are sealed,” I said.

“You have my word of honor, sir.”

Like I said— regal.

“Good. Now,” Paul stood, “I have work to do.”

Dr. Ray smiled at me, but it was a grim smile. “It’s been a long time since I had to work on a dead body. Especially someone who was also a good friend.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Dr. Ray sighed. “This has been a long day.” Then he brightened. “I wonder if Mrs. Ross is still up.”

“She might well be. I thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful.” Paul stood and offered a handshake. “I’m going to request that everyone go to their rooms now. I recommend you lock your doors.”

Dr. Ray, fatigue showing in his eyes, shook hands with Paul.

After the doctor left, Paul told me, “Lock the doors to the basement. Don’t let anyone in except for DeWayne and me.”

A chill descended over me. “Do you really think the murderer is still inside the Inn?”

“Possibly. Or Kevin could be lurking around outside, trying to get in. Either way, I’m not taking any chances, and I don’t want anyone else to either.”

I followed Paul out of the kitchen, missing Robert terribly. What I wouldn’t have given to feel his strong arms around me tonight and have him kiss away my fears.

There was a knock on the door of the Inn.

I peeked through the stained glass window, ready to yell out if it was Kevin.

With relief, I recognized my visitors.

If I couldn’t have Robert, I’d settle for the cavalry.

* * *

Two Summit County sheriffs stood on my porch under the overhang, wearing big winter parkas, dark blue with patches on the shoulders. Along with our snowmobiles from earlier, the two new machines made my driveway look like a parking lot for a Hell’s Angels winter convention. And I was rambling again.

The older deputy, who could have passed for a high school student, introduced himself as Patrol Sergeant Mansfield and his partner, Deputy Quinn. Quinn looked not much older than Zach. Since when did they allow teenagers into the department? Apparently, they were desperate for someone to work the graveyard shifts.

Patrol Sergeant Mansfield said, “Ma’am—”

Ma’am? Pardon me? Just how old did he think I was?

He continued. “We have probable cause and we’ve obtained a telephonic search warrant for the carriage house, which we are executing at this time.”

“All right,” I said. Did he expect an argument from me? Not hardly. “Come on in.”

They stepped inside and carefully wiped off their snow boots. Mansfield looked at me without a hint of a smile. In fact, he looked nervous. Was this his first murder? Must be, if he was new in the department and there’d only been one last year.

I knew how he felt. It was my first murder, too, and it definitely made me nervous.

“We will be seeking a search warrant for the main building. Unless you give us permission to search.”

I looked at Mansfield, confused. “The main building? You mean the one we’re standing in?”

Mansfield nodded.

Quinn smiled at me, apparently the charmer of the pair. “We’ll need to search it.”

“The Silver City police already did.”

“We’d like to check again, if you don’t mind. Would you be willing to sign a consent form?”

“Are you kidding? We don’t know where the murderer is and I’ll feel a lot safer with you here. Bring on the consent form.”

Quinn pulled one out and I signed it.

“Thanks. Now we’ll need to clear the building of suspects.”

I must have looked confused again, for Quinn clarified. “We want to make sure no one is here who shouldn’t be. Especially any suspects in the homicide.”

“Great,” I said. “Would you like to talk with my brother?”

Now they looked confused.

“Paul Ross. He’s the police chief of Silver City. He and his officer, DeWayne Smith, are both here.”

Mansfield nodded. “We want to speak with everyone else here at the Inn, as well.”

“Officer Smith already did.”

Finally, Mansfield smiled gently. “We understand, but we still need to do it again. We have jurisdiction. We want to take statements, and identify everyone here. We will clear the building and ensure that our officers and your guests are safe.”

They may have looked like the Hardy Boys, but they talked like seasoned cops— er, deputies.

Either way, it was time to get my guests back downstairs to answer more questions.

* * *

Hours later, I rolled over in bed, trying not to wake Liz, who was sleeping in my queen-size bed with me. I’d listened to this old mansion’s creaking, groaning and settling sounds most of my life, but they never sounded ominous until tonight.

I glanced over at my bedside clock. 11:50 p.m. After the deputies asked their questions, I had to find a nightgown for BJ to wear, as her luggage was instantly sealed as evidence and totally off limits. She said she’d wear the same outfit tomorrow, but I’d seen the blood stains. I found something that I fit into a long time ago, when I was at my slimmest, twenty pounds ago.

Oh, and I put Clark Harmon in the Max McKnight room. Finally. That was the bright spot of a very dark evening. He loved it.

I climbed into bed, exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. I checked on Zach several times, knowing he was safe, but still having to make sure.

I sighed and shifted again. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from dancing around in my brain.
Who murdered Gregorio? I believed it was Kevin, but where was he? Were the rest of us in danger?

I wanted to believe the murderer was Kevin and he was far from here, but my brother, whose judgment I trusted, said the murderer could still be here, at the Inn. But I thought it had to be Kevin.

Would my business be ruined? Could we keep this out of the media? Was Jennifer in labor?

I knew from listening to my sister, Georgia, a labor and delivery nurse, that heavy storms encouraged labor. Something about the low pressure. I’d hate it if Paul had to miss the birth of his new, little baby boy because of being here with me.

The floorboards creaked in the kitchen. The ceiling above me groaned in the parlor. I sighed again. Lying here listening was driving me crazy. I could hear two male voices and, since I knew the Hardy Boy deputies were still in the carriage house securing the crime scene, Paul and DeWayne must have still been up.

I needed someone else’s voice in my head besides my own.

“Oh, my gosh, Vicki,” Liz whispered, making me jump. “Just get up.”

“I’m going to.” I sat up and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, sliding my feet into the gorilla-face slippers Zach gave me for my last birthday.

I hefted the baseball bat that lent me false courage most of the evening.

“You’re as scary as Grandma.” She giggled as she climbed out of bed. “I’m going with you. No telling what trouble you’ll run into in the dark by yourself.”

I stepped out of my bedroom and listened to the sounds. Grandma was snoring lightly in the guest room. I knew from experience that it would take something really noisy to wake her. Something with the same decibel level as her gun going off, for example. Once asleep, it didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day or night, she didn’t wake up until her body was ready to wake up.

I checked on Zach again, who looked like an angel as he slept. I closed his door.

Stephanie was bunked on the sofa bed and I could see she still had the TV on, watching an inane infomercial. When she caught sight of Liz and me, she jumped. “Darn it, you two, if you go around sneaking up on people, your grandma’s gonna shoot you.”

“Like she’d wake up,” Liz said.

“We’re going upstairs,” I said. “Want to join us?”

Stephanie clicked off the TV and pulled a robe over her nightgown. “What the heck? I can’t sleep anyway.”

In her sweats, Liz grabbed the flashlight I left on the end table and took the lead up the stairs. I followed with the baseball bat. Stephanie played caboose, trusting to her wits alone, I guess.

Liz said, “Don’t you hate those horror shows where the heroine is so stupid, she leaves the safety of her locked room and goes exploring?”

“Shut up!” I said.

“I remember,” Stephanie said, “when I’d spend the night with you guys and your dad would finally come in and yell at us: ‘Will you girls be quiet?’
”

“Yeah, I wish Dad was here tonight,” I said, “to make sure there were no monsters under the bed. Or anywhere else.”

Stephanie nodded. “Yeah. Who knew there’d ever be a murder at the Ross Mansion?”

“You’ve really got to screen your guests better, Vicki.” Liz unlocked the door at the top of the stairs.

We followed her out. I made sure the door was locked behind us before we moved across the foyer toward the familiar voices.

There was one light on in the office, which I always left on at night for the guests. Tonight, it wasn’t enough. Hearing a sudden sound, I flipped the main light switch and squinted my eyes against the brightness. There was nothing there. Now I was starting to imagine things.

Liz said, “Come on,” and pushed into the kitchen.

Stephanie and I followed quickly.

I couldn’t believe how relieved I was at the sight of DeWayne and Paul, sitting at the table, knocking off the rest of the Death by Chocolate. And talking, just like old times.

DeWayne’s face lit up when he caught sight of Liz, just like when we were in high school. But that was eight years ago, before they broke up after graduation, and way before Liz’s marriage to Gene three years ago.

DeWayne was one of the few people who could tell Liz and me apart when we were kids. Most of our siblings and our mother could tell. And sometimes, Grandma. I tricked DeWayne into kissing me once, just for fun, but he figured it out right away. I always wondered whether I was that much
better
or that much
worse
than Liz to make him guess so easily.

Paul frowned. “What are you ladies doing running around in the middle of the night?”

“We couldn’t sleep.” Liz took a seat by DeWayne, just like years ago. “And now we want you to share the cake.”

Stephanie took a seat on the other side of Paul and I pulled up another seat next to Liz.

The five of us often sat at this kitchen table many times over the years. My husband, Robert, and Paul’s wife, Jennifer, joined the parties. But DeWayne stopped coming after Liz married Gene.

DeWayne passed a clean plate to Liz, and asked Paul, “Has the ATL been issued yet?”

I asked, “What’s an ATL?”

Paul smiled at us. “Attempt To Locate. Now officials are watching for Kevin and his vehicle. If he’s found, he’ll be brought in as a
person of interest
in a homicide investigation.”

Homicide
. Even the word sounded ominous. Not just a murder, but a
homicide
. As in homicidal maniac.

Liz shivered. “I can’t eat cake and talk about murder. Change the subject.”

DeWayne didn’t miss a beat. “We were talking about the odds of Paul ever getting invited to sit at the Round Table.”

Stephanie waved a hand dismissively. “Let the Moose Muffin Café go, Paul. It’s never gonna happen.”

I smiled, finally starting to relax just a bit. “Paul is never giving up hope for that. It’s his goal in life.”

Paul frowned again. “Thanks for bringing that up, DeWayne.”

“Hey, my pleasure. Lots of people want to sit there.”

“You’re still young, Paul,” I reassured him as I poured a glass of milk. “Dad was fifty before he got his invitation.”

“Remember that night we sneaked you in…?” Liz began.

“No.” Paul cut her off. “Forget it.”

Stephanie laughed. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“And you had to do it when I was out of town, too.” DeWayne shook his head. “I have still not forgiven you for that.”

“That’s what you get for being quarterback and leaving town for training,” I said with a laugh. “I could have lost my job over the whole thing.”

We reminisced without mentioning the murder or the investigation again. The elephant in the living room, or the kitchen— or the carriage house. And talking like this made me remember all over again how much I enjoyed my family and friends. The horror of the day receded just a bit.

“You would have loved being there, DeWayne.” Liz put her hand on his arm. She repeated the story again as if we hadn’t all heard it multiple times before. But with old friends, that was half the fun, right? “After Vicki closed up that Tuesday night, she let us in. And Paul actually sat at the Round Table. Vicki even served us milkshakes while we were there.”

Even Paul grinned. “And old man Jennings walked up the street and we all hid under the table— with our milkshakes— until he walked past the window.”

“How you ever got to be a lawman is beyond me,” Liz said.

DeWayne put up a hand. “Oh, please, teacher, pick me.”