Miz Scarlet and the Holiday Houseguests (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #3) (9 page)

“I’m so glad you’re here, Maxie! I’ve
missed you!”

“I missed you, too. You look great,
kid. Very grown up. You must be breaking a lot of hearts these
days, fighting the boys off with a stick.”

“Not really!” said the teenager,
blushing.

“Yes, really,” he laughed, tugging on a
lock of her long, dark hair.

My cell phone rang as I stood there,
enjoying their good-natured camaraderie. Glancing down, I saw it
was Larry.

“Excuse me. I’ve got to take this
call.” I stepped away and headed down the hallway, rounding the
corner before I answered it. “Hi. Where are you?”

“I’m here, Scarlet, on your front
porch.”

“I’ll be right down,” I
promised.

“For God’s sake, hurry. I’m freezing my
fanny off out here!”

A moment later, I passed the chattering
teenager, now holding Mozzie, and the retired cop.

“Mickey, can you please show Max to the
Red Oak Room and help him get settled?” I asked as I passed them,
heading for the stairs.

“Sure. Come on, Maxie. It’s this way,”
she directed him, now a veteran of the official Four Acorns Inn
tour.

I hurried to reach the bottom,
scurrying across the twenty feet of foyer, and opened the front
door to a sorry sight. Larry, uncovered hair damp with melting
snowflakes, was shivering as she stood under the porch light. Her
eyes were dark, almost brooding, reflecting a hint of danger on the
horizon. There was trouble headed this way. I could see it in her
expression, even as she tried to hide it. But it was the scene
behind her that captured my attention. I noticed snow had begun to
fall. The big, fat flakes seemed to float in the air as they fell
to earth. Why did that bother me? We were expecting at least three
inches before the night was ended.

And then it hit me. The ground should
be pristine and untouched, and yet I saw boot prints. There were
two different sets, one large, one small. They cut through that
white blanket, leaving a trail that went around to the back of the
house.

“Did you walk through the yard?” I
inquired, pointing to the snowy tracks.

“Of course I did. I’m trying to
determine if there has been an intruder on the
premises.”

“And?”

“Hard to tell.”

“Maybe Bur did a check, to make sure
everything was secure,” I suggested. “He was hanging around the
house a little while ago. I’ll ask him.”

I thought that might make her feel
better, but she was still snippy. “Are you going to invite me in or
admire the damn view?”

“Sorry. Let me take that suitcase.” I
reached out and took it out of her hand, waiting for her to cross
the threshold before I shut and locked the front door.

“I see Max is already here,” she said,
sitting down on the hall chair. Raising her left foot, she slipped
off the black boot, revealing a black herringbone-patterned sock.
She set it down, and did the same with her right foot.

“Michaela is showing him the Red Oak
Room,” I smiled. “I’ve got you in the White Oak Room.”

“This is so unnecessary,” she grumbled,
as I reached down and took the soggy boots from her and put them on
the boot tray in the hall closet.

“It’s just to protect the floors. The
salt from the sidewalk wreaks havoc with the finish,
Larry.”

“No, not the boots. The bed. I’d be
just fine at home.”

“Tough tiddlywinks. You’re here, so
live with it. By the way, what time do you want breakfast tomorrow
and what would you like?”

“Breakfast?”

“It’s all part of the pampering,” I
grinned. “What time?”

“I’ve got to be on the road at
seven-thirty.”

“So, do you want to eat at six-thirty,
seven?”

“Seven.”

“I can make you eggs, waffles, French
toast, pancakes, bacon, sausage, oatmeal....” I listed all the
items on the breakfast list at the Four Acorns Inn.

“Maybe there’s an upside to all this
after all,” she decided, raising an eyebrow playfully as her lips
softened into a semblance of a smile. “At least I won’t have to
cook. Now, let me go talk to Max.”

Chapter Eight
--

I ran the dogs outside for their last
foray of the day. There was a light on in Bur’s apartment over the
carriage house, so I buzzed him on my cell phone to find out what
he knew about the boot prints.

“That was me, Scarlet. When I turned on
the cameras, I had to reposition the one on the north corner. It
must have gotten knocked loose by a branch.”

“Oh, thanks. We saw them and we were a
little worried.” The three dogs were making their way around the
ornamental bushes that lined the driveway, so I just followed the
conga line as they marked their dance cards. “Larry thought it was
an intruder.”

“I’ll call her to explain. It will set
her mind at rest. How is she?” Bur inquired.

“Cranky. And nervous. I think she’s
glad Max is here, though.”

“Good. Any trouble, you call me. I’ve
got a baseball bat at the ready.”

“Nice to know, slugger.”

Just before eleven, all three dogs
crowded into the elevator with me and I pushed the button to the
second floor. When I pushed open the door, January trotted off to
see if Lacey had any treats in her room. The other two decided to
follow, just in case it was true. Meanwhile, I went to find Larry
and her daughter.

Mickey was sitting on one of the twin
beds in the White Oak Room. Larry had hung up her clothes for the
morning on the hook of the closet door, and she was headed to the
bathroom, her toiletry bag in hand. I paused at the door briefly.
“I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“That’s your cue, kid. Sweet dreams.”
Larry kissed her daughter’s cheek and sent her off with me. We got
as far as the door to take us up to the third floor when we heard
the sound of tiny paws thumping toward us. The pooch pack had
returned. Without hesitation, the Jack Russell took the lead,
shooting past us up the carpeted steps. Mozzie and Huck followed.
January curled up on the armchair in the sitting room, staking out
her claim. Huck took up his position on my bed pillows. Mozzie was
at a loss, still waiting for Jenny to return.

“Not to worry, boy. You’ll have a
friend with you tonight.” I sat down on the small sofa and invited
him to join me as I waited for my new roomie to brush her teeth.
Scratching the King Charles Cavalier spaniel behind his ears, I
watched his eyes start to close. Ever since Jenny left, the poor
dog was restless, unable to settle down. He was definitely tired
tonight. Maybe with Mickey, Mozzie could finally get some
rest.

“I’m all done with the bathroom, Miz
Scarlet,” said Mickey, as she emerged. She was dressed in an
oversized white tee shirt and a pair of pink plaid flannel pants.
“See you in the morning.”

“You, too.”

Mozzie watched her go into Jenny’s
room. I could see the little dog thinking about that. He listened
to the sounds of the teenager climbing into bed and settling down
in the unfamiliar room. The bedside lamp went off, leaving the room
dark. A moment later, the small dog with the sweet disposition
hopped down from the loveseat and followed, curiosity getting the
better of him.

“Is that you, Mozzie?” I heard Mickey
ask a moment later. I waited a few minutes, watching the weather
forecast on TV, just in case Mozzie changed his mind. When the news
crew moved on to the sports report, I gave January a pat as I
passed her on my way to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, tucked
under my fluffy down comforter, Huck by my side, I drifted off to
sleep, happy to know that Larry and Mickey were in no
danger.

I dreamed I was running in the snow,
slipping and sliding down the blue trail up on White Oak Hill.
Someone was chasing me, but I was afraid to look over my shoulder.
I just wanted to get away from him.

“Help me! Someone, help me!
Please!”

“Miz Scarlet!” I heard a voice calling
my name. There were dogs barking. “Are you okay?”

“Help me,” I cried again. More
barking.

“Wake up! You’re dreaming!” A terrified
Michaela stood in the doorway of my bedroom. I had left a lamp on
in the sitting room, and I could see her trembling.

“What?”

“You’re having a nightmare.”

“Oh, Mickey!” I sat up in bed, turning
on the light. “I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t frighten you too
much.”

“No, just enough,” the teenager blurted
out. “Boy, Miz Scarlet, you sure can scream!”

“What’s going on?” demanded a voice at
the bottom of the stairs. Larry pounded up the steps, two at a
time. “What happened?”

“Scarlet had a nightmare,
Mom.”

“She did?” Larry stepped into my
bedroom. “You did? Do you normally have nightmares?”

“Not that I know of,” I admitted
sheepishly. “I’m really sorry I woke you both.”

“What were you dreaming about?” she
asked, sitting on the end of my bed. “It sounded
unpleasant.”

“It was. I was being chased on the
trail by a maniac with a gun.”

“Do you know why? Sometimes if you know
what goes on in your nightmare, you can figure out what you were
really dreaming about.”

“Yes. It’s because I knew his secret
and he didn’t want me to tell anyone.” I shivered at the memory of
the dream. I could hear the killer’s voice, but I couldn’t see his
face.

“It must have been horrible because you
were screaming bloody murder. I thought someone was in your room!”
Mickey told me, the shock still clinging to her words.

“And you were brave enough to check on
Miz Scarlet anyway?” The proud mother put her arms around her
daughter and gave her a bear hug. “You might just be a chip off the
old block after all.”

“What?” Mickey grinned shyly. “I had to
go by her room to get to the stairs. It’s the only way out of
here.”

“That’s my baby,” Larry announced,
planting a big kiss on Mickey’s cheek.

“Yes, but now I’m wide awake. I’ll
never get back to sleep.”

“Come with me, little one. Mama Bear’s
going to tell you a story.” The pair left me, returning to Jenny’s
room. I lay awake, listening to the hushed sounds of a
conversation. Even though I couldn’t understand the words spoken, I
took comfort that there were two people in the next
room.

Why was I so terrified, even
now? I knew it was a dream, but somehow it felt so real to me. I
stared up at the ceiling as a thousand disjointed thoughts seemed
to whirl around and converge in my head. Something was wrong, my
brain kept insisting.
I don’t know the man
who was chasing me. He hated Larry, and in order to get to her, he
had to go through me. Why?

“You okay?” Larry asked quietly. She
was back, watching me as she leaned against the door
jamb.

“The man in the dream...he wasn’t after
me. He was after you.” I sat up again. “He wanted to destroy
you.”

“Oh, you’re just worried about me
because I’ve been so stressed lately. You can just forget it, Miz
Scarlet. I’ll be fine as soon as both my parents are here and I
know they’re not going to kill each other. I probably shouldn’t
have told you about their feud. I planted the idea in your
head.”

“No.” I looked her right in the eye.
“My nightmare had nothing to do with your parents. Some guy wanted
to kill me, but you were his real target. He hates you.”

“Okay. I’ll play along.” The homicide
investigator crossed her arms. “Let me pretend your dream was real.
The first thing I’m going to ask you is how do you know it was me
he wanted to harm?”

“You made him really mad. You stopped
him once before.”

“Did I?” She gave me a weary smile.
“And how did I do that?”

“You put him in jail.”

A guarded look fell over Larry’s face
for a moment, like a heavy blanket, obscuring her true emotions,
but then she shrugged. She seemed to hesitate, as if she was on the
brink of telling me something, something important, but then the
moment passed.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Miz
Scarlet, I’ve put a lot of bad guys away in my years on the job.
Not all of them wanted to kill me. A couple even
proposed.”

“Yes, but this guy hates your
guts.”

“Well, I’ll take that under advisement.
In the meantime, I’m heading back down to my room. Sweet
dreams.”

“You, too.”

Putting my head back down on the
pillow, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to convince myself there
was still time to get some more sleep. By the time my alarm went
off, I had managed to get another two hours sleep.

Feeling guilty about my nocturnal
disturbance, I decided to serve Larry and Mickey a breakfast that
would knock their socks off. Tiptoeing down the stairs just after
six, I got the bacon cooking on a cookie sheet in the oven, mixed
up some pancake batter while the coffee was brewing, and sliced up
some bananas in a sauté pan with a little melted butter and some
brown sugar. They were nicely caramelized when Mickey wandered into
the kitchen.