Miz Scarlet and the Vanishing Visitor (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery) (5 page)

Oh, you’re probably thinking I’m getting totally
carried away, but you have to understand I trained as a teacher,
and I’ve tutored high school students for the better part of my
career, steering them towards college. I can’t imagine a teenager
like Jenny not having a fair shot at getting a good education, and
from what she told me about her mother’s cancer, I was confident
that she had an aptitude for nursing. The trick would be to help
her stay motivated.

What kind of girl has no family at all? Was it even
possible? How could her father’s family not contact her mother, not
send money for her support? Maybe Kenny, the security consultant,
could find out something about them. Better still, maybe we could
convince them to cough up the financial aid Jenny and her mother
should have received all along.

I felt a tingle in my pocket and pulled out my phone.
Brother Bur back at the Four Acorns Inn in Cheswick.

“Hey,” I sighed. “How’s it going?”

“You owe me big, Scarlet. You have no idea what a
pain in the....” He was at his bombastic best. Lucky me. I cut him
short.

“You do realize they just fished the body of the
really bad guy out of the ocean, right? I’m not down here lying on
the beach, soaking up the sun and eating bonbons. I’m at Target,
shopping for an orphan that some maniac tried to kill.”

“Well, you still owe me!” he snarled. “Do you have
any idea what Hilda Blevins is like? Not only did she insist on a
different room, she wanted to know why you weren’t here to greet
her. And she hated the licensed practical nurse that showed up to
help her bathe.”

“Who did the agency send?”

“Marva.”

“Well, I don’t blame her. Marva spends the whole time
whining. I told them the last time she showed up that she was a bad
fit for our guests. Tell Hilda that I’m calling the VNA now and
I’ll make sure they send Ernesta or Belle. And I should be there
later tonight.”

Twenty minutes later, I had the licensed practical
nurse situation for the guest with Parkinson’s all straightened
out. I called Hilda to explain the snafu and to personally reassure
her that her nurse tomorrow would be far more helpful and less
talkative. As soon as I hung up, my phone rang again. This time it
was Kenny.

“You can come home now, babe.”

“Mother, may I?” Shades of childhood.

“Yes, you may,” he trilled, doing his best old lady
impression. Funny how the games of our youth still make us
silly.

With my purchases in hand, I left the store, climbed
into my Focus, and headed back to Kenny’s house. The driveway no
longer had a state vehicle parked on it. That was a positive sign.
I wondered if the neighbors just assumed Kenny was chummy with the
cops in his capacity as a security consultant. I didn’t see faces
peering out from behind the curtains on my walk from car to
house.

“Ready to hit the road?” That was the first thing
Kenny said to me when I made it through the door. He seemed to have
ants in his pants, itching and twitching, urging me to grab my
suitcase from Kendra’s room.

“On your way to put out a forest fire, Smokey?”

“Something like that.” His eyes landed on me long
enough for me to recognize the concern there. Not good. I wondered
if he’d gotten bad news while I was gone. Or was this about Jenny
and some dark secret?

Chapter Five --

My clothes were already in the suitcase. I gathered
my toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant,
shoved them inside my plastic travel case, and zipped it closed.
Moments later, I was in the foyer. I deposited the luggage, hit the
powder room, and then found Jenny and Captain Peacock in the
kitchen.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“I’ll follow you,” he announced.

“Oh.”

“Jenny will be traveling with me, Scar. I need to
talk to her about a few things.”

“I see,” I told him, but the truth is I didn’t.
Something didn’t feel right. They were keeping secrets from me.
There were worry lines around Captain Peacock’s eyes. Did he think
Richie’s killer would make an attempt on Jenny’s life?

Jenny was the first one out the door. She headed to
Kenny’s Ford Escape in the garage. He caught my hand, pulled me
close, and whispered, “I’ll make it up to you.”

His warm touch made me shiver, especially as his lips
brushed my cheek. An electrical charge pulsed through my veins.
Love is good, even when it comes late, and better late than
never.

“Let’s try to make it without stopping, Scarlet.”

“Is it important?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll do it.”

Three hours later, I pulled my Ford silver bullet
into the long driveway of the Four Acorns Inn and continued to the
carriage house. I parked in my garage bay, lifted the hatchback,
grabbed the luggage, and met Kenny and Jenny out front. Inserting
the key into the front door, I stepped aside to let them pass.

“Wow,” the teenager sighed as she entered. She
twirled around, enthralled with the house. “It’s a mansion.”

“Yes, it is. Every guest room has a private bath.” I
led her through the first floor, showing her each of the public
rooms. We finished in the living room, where my mother, Laurel, and
her cousin, Lacey, were playing Scrabble with Mr. Hornblower. I
introduced our newest visitor.

“She’ll be working part-time,” I told the assembled
crowd, “to pay for her keep.”

“How nice,” Lacey decided.

“Indeed.” My mother gave the plan her stamp of
approval. I gave Jenny a conspiratorial wink, to let her know she
was doing just fine.

“What’s for din-din?” came a booming voice behind us.
We all turned to see my brother, Bur, saunter in, dressed in his
golf clothes.

“Whatever you’re making,” I shot back. After all, I
had just driven nearly two hundred miles non-stop.

“Now, now, Miz Scarlet. No need to get snippy. Is
this the little waif? Let me take a look at her,” he insisted.

“Ignore him,” I instructed Jenny.

“Don’t listen to her,” my brother replied, going
right up to the teenager and staring in her face. “I don’t see any
obvious signs of drug use. No needle marks, no yellowing of the
eyes to indicate liver damage....”

“Pay no attention to the ignoramus. We only let him
out once a day. Otherwise, he stays in his pen in the
backyard.”

“My sister kids. I live in the carriage house.”

“Wow, do you two always fight like this?” Jenny
seemed shocked.

“Are you kidding?” Lacey was laughing. “They were
born belligerent.”

“I wouldn’t say belligerent,” my mother spoke up.

“Thank you, mother.” Bur nodded in her direction.

“More like cat and dog, two separate species.”

“Dog!” I called, beating my brother to the punch.

“Fitting in every way,” he shot back. “Woof! As in
bow-wow!”

“At least I’m not a mouse chaser like you, you old
dust bag! Help yourself to a saucer of milk.”

“Better still, why don’t you fetch it, Fido?”

“Children!” There was that admonishing tone in my
mother’s voice that brooked no nonsense. She might be stuck in a
wheelchair, but she still had a voice that could carry above the
din. “Enough! Both of you stop it. Now, Scarlet, where is Jenny
going to sleep?”

“I thought I would put her in the library for
now.”

“No, that won’t do at all,” my mother decided. “She
should be on the second floor.”

“But....”

“No buts about it, Scarlet,” Lacey added.

“I beg your pardon, ladies. May I remind you that
it’s my job to see to the guests?”

“Or you could put her on the third floor,” my mother
suggested, “with you.”

“What?”

“Why not? That storage room could be transformed into
another bedroom....”

“But....” I tried to protest, but the Googins girls
were already talking over me, like I wasn’t there.

“They can share the sitting room.”

“And it will be a quiet getaway.”

“Mother,” I cut in. No response. “Lacey!”

“You’ll have to share the bathroom, but that’s not
really a big deal, is it, Scarlet?” Neither of the elderly ladies
bothered to wait for my response.

“Well, now that we have that settled, let’s talk
about dinner.”

“Settled?”

“She’s in the Red Oak room until the guests arrive
this week, and then we’ll move her to my room, and I’ll temporarily
stay in the library, until the new bedroom is finished,” Lacey told
me. “Weren’t you listening, dear?”

“Kenny is staying in the Red Oak room tonight,” I
pointed out.

“Put him in the library,” Lacey suggested. “He won’t
mind, will you, dear?”

“No, ma’am,” said the former Eagle Scout, grinning at
the Googins girls.

“Let’s not get carried away, ladies. I’m still in
charge of the guest accommodations.” What good did it do to assert
myself? They pretended not to hear me.

“I...I don’t want to cause any problems,” Jenny piped
in, clearly distressed at all the discussion over her sleeping
arrangements.

“Kiddo, you’ll have to get used to this,” Kenny
confided. “It comes with the territory.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Laurel, offering the girl
her hand. “My daughter and son like to bicker. I don’t know where
they get it from, probably their father’s side of the family.”

“Hardly!” Bur was all over that statement in a flash.
“This is definitely Googins in origin!”

My mother sniffed, her pert little nose rising toward
the ceiling. “I think not, Bur. The Wilsons were hardly the epitome
of good breeding. I’ll have you know that your father was reputed
to have quite a temper as a young man.”

“That’s because you drove him batty,” my brother
responded.

“Oh, lordy!” I sighed. “Welcome home. Speaking of
which, where are those dogs? And Scrub Oak?”

“Damn!” That was Bur. “I put them up in your room
when the workmen were here this afternoon. We had a small problem
with the gas furnace during the annual maintenance check, and they
were coming and going, in and out of the house.”

“Come on, Jenny,” I shook my head. “Grab your
suitcase and I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”

Leading the way up the long staircase, I watched the
girl take in all the details of the grand two-story foyer. The
house, built during the era of success for the pressboard mill my
grandfather and his partners ran, truly was a marvel of
architectural elegance.

These days, as a bed and breakfast, it was popular
with our clientele, thanks in part to the elevator we had installed
in a closet decades ago, after my mother lost her mobility. With
only three, sometimes four guest suites, we were hardly a swank
hotel. But our guests had come to expect pampering and
socialization, two things at which we excelled. Some came on their
way in or out of the hospital, whether for cancer treatment or
general surgery. Some came because they had physical limitations
and had business in Hartford County. I often arranged for physical
therapists to come to the house, nurses to check on recently
discharged patients, or supplemental oxygen for people with
breathing difficulties. There was a ramp to the driveway, gardens
that were handicapped-accessible, and a peaceful setting for guests
to kick back and relax in while they were with us.

“Here you are,” I told her, leading her to the door
of the Red Oak room. She stepped in, mouth open, and gasped at the
carved bed. “Wow!”

“Like it?” I patted her shoulder. “It belonged to my
grandparents. You can put your case down on the trunk there.”

Even as I spoke, I could hear the barking upstairs.
Huckleberry and January were in full chorus. I could only hope my
suite was still relatively intact. After hours of being cooped up
on the third floor, the Four Acorns Inn resident pets were likely
to be feisty.

“Good thing you like dogs,” I told Jenny. “How do you
feel about cats?”

“Oh, I love all kinds of animals,” she cooed, as I
showed her the way to the staircase to the third floor. Definitely
less grand, it was far more private, something I appreciated. When
I went to bed at night, it gave me comfort to know that I could
shut the door and be in my own little world, at least for a few
hours.

The sounds of barking stopped the moment the door
opened at the second-floor landing. We both looked up to see three
figures, all about the same size, waiting at the top. Huckleberry
was my Yorkshire terrier, a sweet little boy who was affectionate
and perpetually hungry. He loved the cocktail hour, when little
tidbits fell on the floor. I could see him dancing around as he
waited for my arrival.

“They’re so cute!” Jenny declared. “Oh!”

As we stepped into my sitting room, January claimed
Jenny as her own. The fox terrier practically threw herself into
the teen’s welcoming arms.

“She belonged to one of our first guests, Hank. He
stayed with us while he had cancer treatment, and when he passed
away, January joined the family.”

“Poor baby,” Jenny decided, burying her face in
January’s coat. I thought I saw her wipe away a tear as she hugged
the tiny pooch. Maybe it was that Hank, like her mother, had passed
away from cancer. Maybe it was that Jenny had lost Mozzie, her dog,
to Richie’s barbarian ways. Something told me that January would
soon have a new champion in her corner.

“And this fine fellow is Scrub Oak. He’s a house cat.
We don’t let him outside because there are coyotes in the
neighborhood. And fisher cats, hawks, owls....” I recited the list
of predators in the area. “White Oak Hill is a park behind the
house, known for its hiking trails and its wildlife. You might see
deer in the garden from time to time. There’s an occasional bear
sighting, usually in the spring when the mama has her cubs. Do you
like to hike?”

“I’m from New Hampshire,” she reminded me. “My mom
used to take me camping every summer before she got sick. We had a
kayak and we used to spend time paddling around Little Island
Pond.”