Killer Closet Case: a Danger Cove B&B Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 6) (15 page)

I fought the smile tugging at my lips as I walked up the stairs and stood in front of the entrance. Not normally overly outgoing, I had hoped to have my brother's help with the questioning part. He'd probably disappeared with Cristal somewhere, so I was on my own. I inhaled a deep breath, tugged the door open, and entered the lobby. A little bell jingled as the door closed behind me. The small lobby housed a reception desk to the right, a product display case on the other side filled with the latest and greatest brands, and a beautiful blue Victorian couch, tying the room back to its roots.

A cute blonde woman appeared through the door from the salon. "Hi, I'm Cassidi. Do you have an appointment with us today?" she bubbled, a welcoming smile lighting her face as she inched toward the reception desk.

"Uh, no," I stammered. "I just needed to ask you a few questions about my parents, if you have a few minutes."

Her smile faded, grasping ahold of the desk, suddenly needing support. "Oh no. Did my uncle Vinnie sleep with your mom too?" She popped her free hand over her mouth, her breathing coming in worried gasps.

"No, no, it's nothing like that." I closed the small gap between us, placing a hand at her elbow in an attempt to calm her. "My name is Bree Milford. My parents own the Ocean View Bed & Breakfast."

The worry morphed into a lopsided pity smile that quickly faded as she straightened her posture and released the desk. "I've heard about what's going on. I'm so sorry. Your mom is one of my regulars. I just love Janet."

"Have you met my father too?" I asked, a little too much hope bubbling forth as I practically backed her onto the couch, obviously invading her personal space a bit. I took a step back. "Sorry about that."

"Well," she hedged, looking down at her manicured nails. "I've only seen your dad around here once or twice. Unfortunately, the one time I remember for sure, he was yelling at that Burke guy to stay away from your mom." She looked up from her hands and locked her gaze with mine. "In your dad's defense, the man was relentless. He wouldn't take no for an answer from your mom, even though he knew she was happily married."

I felt my shoulders slump as my hopes were dashed. "Thank you for your time. I doubt another altercation with the dead guy is something that will help his case." It was my turn to shift my gaze away. I stared at my sneakers.

She ran a hand down my arm. "If it helps at all, your mom has only the sweetest things to say about your dad. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know. I've got the number of the bed and breakfast in your mom's file."

*   *   *

After a solemn yet much-needed stroll back home, I made my way around to the back porch. I had hoped that the sound of the waves would calm me a bit. But it was also partly to avoid the glower of my
favorite
female neighbor, just in case she was still spying on me from earlier. Surely she was lurking behind one of the curtains again.

I lost myself in thoughts of torturing Duncan Pickles, wondering whom to talk to next about my parents, and whatever it was that I felt building between Mal and me. I barely even noticed the sun's descent into the ocean and the fiery colors as it sank out of sight on the horizon. The cool night breeze brought me back to my senses, calling my attention to the inky sky and the sound of peaceful waves lapping against the shoreline.

Clanging, bellowing, and a fiery string of curse words penetrated the serene night air, all of it coming from Nick's house. I jumped from my chair, wondering if I should investigate or leave it be. Not one to be left to wonder, I wound my way through the trees and bushes between our homes and up the path through the garden to the back door to his attached garage. My hand was poised to knock, when I heard Nick's voice.

"Maybe you should've learned to hide better."

I crept around to the window just in time to see him close the door going into the house. The main light had been turned out, but the small light that came on after the exterior door was shut still cast a dim glow through the room. It all looked like a normal guy's garage as I scanned the area filled with tools, workbenches, golf clubs, and the like. Then it hit me. It looked like a
guy's
garage. Nothing like the personality Nick had portrayed of a dependent diva of sorts.

And then I spotted a streak of red across the floor!

I inched backward toward the B&B, my brain buzzing from what I'd just seen, waiting until I was out of Nick's earshot before dialing 9-1-1.

While the phone rang, my mind raced through a bunch of scenarios, and I almost hung up. Was that really blood this time? Who was he talking to? Were they still alive?

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" a stern woman's voice asked.

"I think there's blood in my neighbor's garage," I blurted into the phone.

"Who is calling, and what is the address?"

"This is Bree Milford. I don't know what Nick Lafollette's actual address is, but I'm next door at eight-twelve Cliffside Drive." My voice was as shaky as my body, as chills skittered up and down my spine.

The woman huffed directly into the phone. "Is this another homophobic call about his sexual preferences? You can be arrested for calling in unfounded accusations. This is a recorded line, you know."

"I don't care about any of that. I would just like someone to come investigate what I think I saw." It was my turn to breathe into the phone.

"Did you see a body?"

"Well…no."

"Oh, honey," she stated condescendingly. "I'm sure it was just a deer or something he got while hunting. It's the start of bow season. That's probably what you saw and would see in many garages around town. Mr. Lafollette is a big hunter, though you'd never know by looking at him. Or"—she giggled but quickly covered it with a fake cough—"maybe he's painting his living room?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly instead of saying something I might regret on a recorded line.

The operator let out a deep breath into the phone. "We'll stop by first thing in the morning and check for you, if you really need us to."

"Uh, yes, I need you to," I snarked back as I hung up. Staring down at the dark screen, I added, as though the woman were still on the line, "Why else would I have called?" I guess this was my penance for the last call I'd made to them. Unless I was missing a limb or sitting on top of a dead body, they'd see me the next morning.

I flopped onto one of the back deck chairs next to the patio table, having calmed down a little bit, but it still didn't sit right. The manly garage, Nick's voice being at least an octave lower (not to mention the impressive string of curse words), and the red streak across the floor all nagged at me. Maybe I needed to go check things out for myself.

Mal knocked on the side of the house to get my attention as he crossed the patio and slid a pizza box onto the table in front of me.

I jumped to my feet. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a few seconds, but you seemed pretty caught up in your thoughts. I didn't want to scare you."

I grabbed his hand and yanked him through the trees to the window of Nick's garage. "Will you give me your opinion on something?" I whispered.

He glanced around before staring at me like I had a hand growing out of my forehead. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope." I popped up on tippy-toes so I could see into the garage, but the light was completely out, revealing nothing but pitch-black darkness. "Damn it," I snapped.

He pulled me a safe talking distance away from the house. "Tell me what you saw."

I told him every last detail, right down to the bright-red streak. "So I called the cops, but they won't come out until morning." 

He folded his arms across his chest and peered down his nose at me. "Well, it is bow season."

"Seriously?" It would have been a perfectly valid argument if the patronizing 9-1-1 operator hadn't already mentioned it and made me mad. I stomped back over to the window. "I need to get in there for my own peace of mind."

He pulled me back toward the deck easily, even while I tried to get a foothold on a rock and grabbed at a tree limb. "We are not breaking into that man's house."

I gave in and let him lead me back to the patio, letting out a huff. "No one will take me seriously now because of the Kochs' garbage can debacle." I felt myself blushing as memories of the red paint surfaced.

"I believe you saw something tonight. I'm just really willing to bet it was a deer that met its fate and nothing more."

"Fine," I grumbled. "But when they see the blood tomorrow, and he has no deer, it's all on you."

He fought back a smile. "I have broad shoulders. I think I can endure the weight."

I'd assumed
first thing in the morning
meant eight o'clock, when most offices opened, to pretty much everyone, not just to me. Evidently that wasn't what the Danger Cove Police Department considered it. I stopped pacing the front porch and glanced down at my phone again. Nine forty-five. I had just swiped it on to call the department line and check in when the black and white rolled to a stop in front of Nick's house.

I stomped over to the car as lanky Officer Faria got out. Arms crossed over my chest, I asked, "Have trouble finding the place?"

The officer stopped in his tracks on his way up the front walk and spun on his heels toward me. "I'm an officer of the law, so that means you respect me."

The radio he had pinned to his lapel squawked with white noise briefly, then a voice announced, "Make sure Lafollette wasn't painting his garage the same color as the Kochs' living room," which was followed by a round of hearty laughter.

Faria blushed bright red and pushed the lever on his radio. "Ms. Milford is at the scene."

Other than the waves in the background and a few birds in the trees overhead, dead silence filled the air as Officer Faria's face slowly faded back to his regular skin tone. "Sorry about that."

His radio squelched again followed by a somber, professional, "Copy that."

I trailed behind him as we made our way up the winding path lined with lemon grass and dotted with colorfully striped planters that had been emptied, ready for winter. I stood on the small, pristine porch, feeling smug and satisfied as he rang the doorbell. I knew I'd seen something this time.

Nick opened the door, his shocked gaze shifting between the officer and me. "To what do I owe this little surprise? Come in. Come in." He waved his hands and backed into the foyer, directing us like a museum guide leading a group of second graders. "I just made some fresh-squeezed lemonade, and I'm sure I can scare up some ladyfingers to go along with it."

I'm sure you could just cut them off the body you were dragging through your garage last night.

"No, thank you," the officer said, waving Nick to a stop. "We're here on official business."

"Really," Nick drew out, popping one arm across his chest and resting the elbow of the other on it as he fidgeted with his collar. "Whatever for?"

Faria sighed, looking back at me before answering. "Ms. Milford claims that she saw something in your garage last night that looked suspicious."

His words were spot on. His tone, however, was a bit more condescending than I'd have liked.

Nick shook his head and flipped a pinky-lifted hand at me. "Now, Summer Breeze, you know you could have just marched that little tushie of yours over here and rung my doorbell all by yourself last night. I told you that my door is always open. I would have shown you right then and there that there's nothing at all suspicious about my garage." He clucked his tongue and jutted his nose into the air, pretending to fan away tears. "I thought we'd become friends."

The officer turned toward me and raised a brow, motioning toward the theatrics.

I was pretty sure he was trying to get me to leave, as though his guilt trip was enough to stave off my curiosity. I'd packed enough for an entire guilt vacation, so I wasn't going anywhere until I'd seen everything. I shook my head, slowly and purposefully.

Officer Faria sighed and pivoted back to Nick. "To set her fears at ease, would you mind if we had a look in your garage now?" 

"Absolutely, but it's a little messy." Nick patted the officer playfully on the chest. "Oh, someone works out." Nick waggled his brow and winked at the officer. "I'll open the door for you, if you don't mind walking around to the side. My kitchen is a nightmare." He framed his face with his hands, widened his eyes, and did a silent scream.

Again, I followed the officer back out the front door, across the lawn, and down the gravel drive, this time past an old convertible Mustang in front of the garage that hooked to the back of his house. The big front double door was still closed, and we heard someone thumping around inside.

Officer Faria banged his fist against the door. "Mr. Lafollette, please open up." A few more seconds passed with more banging around inside. Just as the officer flipped open the leather strap that secured his gun, the automated door lumbered opened. He snapped the band back into place.

"Sorry, kids. I had to tidy up just a bit. I got a deer yesterday." He beamed at me, clapping his hands and doing a little shimmy of a victory dance. "Did you know bow season just opened?"

I bit my bottom lip in an attempt not to scream. "So I've been told," I grumbled while glancing around at the well-organized garage.

The walls were all pegboards with hanging tools filling the spaces. Below was a huge workbench that occupied most of the entire far wall, and a large air compressor sat next to it. Along the sides of the garage were low shelves full of man-type toys and an old trunk underneath. A bicycle and an expensive-looking set of golf clubs sat in the corner.

"I guess you work on your own cars, huh?" I asked as I glanced around.

"Are you implying that a gay man can't do that kind of man's work?" Nick gasped with a quivering bottom lip.

"No. I'm not implying anything like that," I stammered. "This just wasn't what I would have pictured for you. I hadn't fancied you as a hunter either, though."

"Ma'am," the officer said, getting my attention. "Are you satisfied with what you see?"

No, I wasn't, but I also didn't see anything suspicious either. The blood had obviously been cleaned up, and there was no place to have stuffed a body. "I'm sorry to have bothered you guys again."

I turned back toward Nick. For a brief second he was glaring at me, but it wasn't him at all. His expression was menacing, his jaw set, fingers grinding into fists at his sides. I'd seen that look before, but not on him. Or was it him? Before I could get a handle on it, like the flip of a switch, his features softened, his lips pursed, and his hand wafted in front of him as he fought those fake tears again.

"Now, honey," Nick cooed. "Like I said earlier, you could have come over last night. I'd have shown you the deer."

I looked around the garage, my hands spread as I turned, spanning the garage. "Where's the deer now?"

"Well, um, it's been sent off to the processor in Seattle. They picked it up just a little while ago."

Nodding, I tried to keep the shock from my face. I'd been sitting on my front porch for two hours. Only three vehicles had gone down our road, none of which had stopped at his house. "I see. Well, thank you for your time. I apologize for any inconvenience." I bowed slightly toward each man and stormed back to the bed and breakfast, even more confused than before. 

As I paced the lobby floor contemplating exactly what I may have witnessed the night before, Bradley jogged onto the porch. Dripping with sweat, he swung the screen door open and looked me up and down in an intense scan as he walked through and let the door slam behind him.

"What's the matter?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me onto the couch next to him.

I scooted away from his sweaty body. "Who needs a shower now?"

He raised an arm and sniffed, crinkling his nose. "That'd be me."

I told him all about what I'd seen the night before and the nice little chat I'd just had with Nick. "He's hiding something. He told the police that someone had picked up his deer carcass this morning. No one stopped there, so he's lying his ass off. And just for a second, it was like the guy I'd gotten to know over the past few days was gone, and he reminded me of someone. I just don't know who and from where." I glanced over at my brother, who gave me the skeptical side-eye. "I'm rambling again. Sorry."

"We need to focus on our parents right now. Whatever Nick has going on over there will have to wait. Besides, it
is
bow…"

"If you even so much as speak the words
bow season
, so help me God, I'll rip the lips right off of your face," I snarled at my brother. "Go see if you have any luck waking up Princess Cristal. I tried beating on her door earlier. I'm sure you'll have better luck."

He raised a brow. "Maybe she will shower with me?"

I really needed to move up that chat with everyone about boundaries. I just waved him away toward the stairs.

He pulled two keycards from his sock and winked. "She gave me a key." He flew to the staircase and took them two at a time. A few minutes later, he stumbled back down, white as a ghost. "She's not there, and her bed hasn't been slept in."

Unsure why I didn't believe him for myself, I tore up the stairs and into her room. Sure enough, the bed was still made. And since I was the only one who'd been taking care of the rooms (though I hadn't really had much to do since that first morning) and knew her penchant for never making her bed, I was more than confident in my brother's assumption. The rest of the room looked like an actress's dressing room had exploded. Dresses were draped over the tufted headboard, workout clothes were strewn across the chest of drawers, and toiletries littered the bathroom counter.

I spun around toward my brother. "Maybe she's jogging and just took a different route than you did?" It was supposed to be a comforting statement, but it came out as more of a question. As I walked to the door and kicked some of her things out of the way that had fallen to the floor, I made contact with one of her running shoes. I picked it up. "Or not."

Bradley popped the heel of his hand to his forehead. "I freaked her out. That's why she's gone. I told her I wanted to spend the night with her." He pointed to the bed. "Here." He flicked his gaze to the floor, then back at me. "You know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah, it doesn't take a rocket scientist." I glanced around the room, then back to him. "But she gave you her key."

"I know, but she acted funny about it and made some comment about not rushing things. I thought it was just a ploy some women use to make sure we don't think you're easy and stuff."

I bobbed my head and looked at anything but my brother. "Some women might do that."

"I'll call her. I'm sure there is a logical explanation." He pulled out his phone, dialed the number, and held it to his ear, but only for a second. He held it out toward me. "Straight to voice mail." He started pacing in and out of the room, alternating between wringing his hands and weaving them through his thick, dark hair. He tossed his phone onto her bed next to me. "I'm too worked up. You need to call and report her missing."

I pursed my lips. "I'm pretty sure the last person the Danger Cove Police Department wants to hear from right now is me."

*   *   *

Bradley and I wound our way down the hill toward the business area of Danger Cove, after
he
placed the missing persons call. We each had a different picture of Cris pulled up on our phones, and we showed them to anyone who would stop long enough for us to ask if they'd seen her. We decided that canvassing the city was better than sitting around hoping she would show up while we waited for the police to find her. It was the first time since I'd gotten to the bed and breakfast that I had to lock the front door during the day, but it wasn't like we'd had people clamoring to get rooms. Plus, I would rather miss out on a reservation than the chance at finding my best friend.

Several times I looked at my brother as we walked and almost asked if he thought the blood I'd seen at Mr. Lafollette's was Cris's. Each time, I stopped myself short. There was absolutely no reason to put that image into his head too. Besides, the police would undoubtedly be checking back over there again eventually.

Bradley stepped off the curb, nearly getting plowed over by the trolley. He was evidently caught up in his search and not paying a bit of attention to anything without blonde hair. I grabbed his arm and tugged him back as the carriage chugged by with a courteous
ting-ting
from the bell. I scanned the seating area of the packed vintage car, hoping for a glimpse of Cris through the bars, popping up onto tippy-toes to see the other side before it was completely past us.

My brother shook his head, craning his neck to look up and down Main Street. "I didn't see her on there. You?"

"Nope." I glanced around at the shops, waving my hand up and down the street at the old storefronts, some of them beautifully remodeled and others still displaying their original charm. "Maybe we should go in a few of these places and ask around?"

He nodded, sporting a halfhearted smile. "Can't hurt." He threaded his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I wish I'd have gone to school to be a detective instead of wasting my time in law."

I bumped him with my shoulder as we made our way to the bakery. "You're going to make one hell of an attorney. I'm proud of you, big bro."

Stopping abruptly, he stared down at his feet and gulped in a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly. "I feel so damned useless." He looked up at me with hurt, worry, and anger contorting his handsome features. "Give it to me straight."

Crap. He's going to ask about the blood. I felt my own drain from my face, going a little lightheaded as the street bobbled back and forth a bit in my peripheral vision. I opened my mouth, prepared to lie like a rug to console him, but he spoke first.