Murder in Death's Door County (18 page)

I was sitting in the kitchen, coloring
with Lucy when Lizzy came home.

Lucy ran to Lizzy, shouting, “Yay, Auntie’s
here!”

“Hey, Lizzy! How are you?” I asked.

“Great. But I should ask how you are.”
She picked up Lucy and swung her around. “How’s my little munchkin?” she asked
Lucy, who answered with a giant giggle.

“Has everything been okay?” Lizzy
lowered her voice, “I know M-A-G-G-I-E can be a bit B-O-S-S-Y.” Lizzy spelled
out some of the words for Lucy’s benefit.

“Who can be B-O-S-S-Y, Lizzy?” Maggie
asked as she joined us in the kitchen.

“Y-O-U can, but you know I love you,”
Lizzy went to hug her older sister.

Maggie gave a pretend grunt, but hugged
her back. From the little that Lizzy had shared, I gathered she and Maggie had
a typical sisterly relationship. Ready to do battle with each other at a moment’s
notice, but woe be it to anyone who hurt the other. As an only child, I felt a
pang of envy over their easy teasing.

“Hey, Maggie, what’s for dinner? I’m
famished. Oh, and Annie, you’ll appreciate this. Guess who asked about you
today?”

It couldn’t be Donovan, he knew my
whereabouts. “Who?”

“Mom’s meatloaf.”

Maggie and I spoke at the same time. I
said, “Jinx, buy me a Coke,” and we both laughed.

Slightly annoyed, Lizzy pointed out that
we hadn’t actually said the same thing, and you could only say “jinx” when you
both said the same thing. Maggie rolled her eyes. Yep, typical sisters.

“I’m dying of curiosity, Lizzy! Who
asked about me?”

Lizzy grabbed my arms and told me to
brace myself, “You’re not going to believe this!”

“Who? Who?”

“Mommy, did Annie turn into an owl?”
Lucy innocently asked.

“No, sweetheart, your Aunt Lizzy is just
teasing her. Would you just tell her already! I want to know too!”

“Okay. Okay. You guys are no fun! Cindy!”

“Cindy? Who’s Cindy?” Maggie asked.
Clearly, Lizzy hadn’t brought that particular work problem home with her.

“Cindy asked about me? Why on earth
would she? She barely acknowledged me while I lived at the Lighthouse.”

“Who’s Cindy?” Maggie tried again.

“I know, right? She barely acknowledged
either of us, really. I was shocked she lowered herself to talk to me!”

“Who. Is. Cindy?” Maggie almost shouted.
She wiped her hair off her brow. “Sorry, I got carried away. But who is this
person? Does she figure into this whole thing?”

“I don’t think so,” I hedged, I couldn’t
help but add, “however, she certainly does act suspiciously.”

“Oh, you don’t really think she’s
involved, Annie, do you?”

“Well, who’s to say? I mean, why is she
so eager about knowing where I’ve gone.”

“Good point.” Lizzy turned to Maggie and
explained Cindy’s role at the inn and what had happened when Lizzy spilled the
coffee on her.

“She sounds like a grump. But do you
really think she could have committed murder?”

“Honestly, Maggie, I don’t know what to
think anymore.”

Maggie pulled the meatloaf out of the
oven. “Good thing you won’t have to think for the next hour or so, then. Soup’s
on!”

The smell of garlicky mashed potatoes
and happy, ketchup-y meatloaf made my mouth water, literally. Nick led us in
grace, otherwise he really didn’t say much. For a few minutes, none of us said
anything as we wolfed down the great dinner.

“So, Annie, Lizzy told us you’re from
Milwaukee. How did you get involved with this project?” asked Maggie.

I told her about my ghostwriting projects
and how I had worked for Harry. Lizzy filled her in on exactly what had
happened, up to my ransacked room. She did not mention the jewels. She, Kitty,
and I had made a pact to not mention them to anyone else. At this point, we
felt like we couldn’t be too careful.

“So, someone went through your stuff?
Poor Kitty, I bet she feels horrible about that.”

“She does, but it wasn’t her fault.”

“I’m sure she was relieved to hear you
say that.”

“Oh, Annie, Kitty said she boxed up a
few more of your things and you can pick them up whenever you want.”

“Would it be okay if I went to work with
you tomorrow?”

“To pick it up?”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, if Nick gives me a ride to
work, you can use my car and pick me up from work,” Lizzy graciously offered. “Is
that okay, Nick?”

“Sure, no problem,” Nick said after
swallowing a huge mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Everyone cleaned their plates, went back
for seconds, and promptly fell into food comas. Except for Lucy. She ran around
the living room, trying to get someone to play with her. Then, Lucy had bath
time, and both Maggie and Nick tucked her into bed. I couldn’t help but think
what a lucky little girl she was to have two parents who clearly loved her.

“She is so sweet,” I said to Lizzy, as
they went up the stairs.

“I know, she is a little sweetie-pie,
isn’t she? I love her to pieces.”

“I can tell. It is really great of
Maggie and Nick to open their home to me. Are they always this kind?”

Lizzy and I stayed up until midnight
chatting about our families. It felt a lot like an old-fashioned slumber party.

—
–

I woke up the next morning at my usual
time of 6:30-ish. When I made it downstairs, Lizzy was already sitting with
Nick and Lucy. Maggie was making pancakes with chocolate chips.

Yum! I loved anything with chocolate
chips. Adding maple syrup just makes it better. When I was little, I used to
sneak teaspoons of sugar. I never understood why I wasn’t allowed to do that.

Maggie had Lucy dressed like a ladybug.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, smiling
at the little ladybug.

“She wanted to wear her Halloween
costume for you, so I let her,” Maggie said. “She’s taken quite a liking to
you.”

“Great pancakes, honey,” said Nick. “Lizzy,
I’ll be ready to leave at seven, sound good?”

“Yep, I’m all set. Annie, can you pick
me at four or so?”

“Sounds great.”

We finished our breakfast in silence.
When everyone else left for their jobs, and Lucy for daycare, I decided to
clean the house for Maggie. She had been so kind to me, I felt it was a small
way to give back to her and Nick. Lizzy had shown me where everything was
yesterday evening, so I got to work.

I spent the rest of the day out of sight
in the guest room, reading. Now if this was how I got to spend my time
unemployed, I could get used to it. But once we found Harry’s killer, I needed
to buckle down and get a job. Idly, I wondered what kind of job I could find up
in Door County, which was a very seasonal and touristy kind of place. And so
the day went. Before I knew it, it was three and almost time to go and get my
stuff and Lizzy.

—
–

 “Hey Annie! Welcome back!” came Kitty’s
exuberant greeting at the door. “I put your stuff in back. Oh, and I think George
has a message for you.” At that moment the phone rang, “Lighthouse Inn. Kitty
speaking.” Kitty waved at me as I headed towards the bar to get the message
from George.

A message for me? Thoughts raced through
my head. As I approached George at the bar, my heart soared at the hope I would
hear the words, “Donovan called. He wants you to call him back right away.” And
I was even prepared to be in a snit that he hadn’t tried my cell phone. But
then again, why would Donovan call for me at the Lighthouse Inn, he knows Lizzy’s
sister’s number and my cell phone.

Okay, okay, calm down, Annie. With my
heart in my throat, I heard George’s actual message for me, “Hey Annie! Good to
see ya! I hope Lizzy’s family is treating you okay. Joyce Limburger called for
you.”

I tried to ignore my heart falling to
the pit of my stomach, as I scrunched up my face and squeaked, “Joyce?”

“Yeah, she said she’s friends with
Effie? I have her number here. She said it’s real important.” He put down the
glass he was wiping and leaning across the bar, beckoning me closer. “Between
you and me, kid, she sounded like a real pushy broad.” He went on to tell me
about their conversation.

I had a big soft spot for George. He
reminded me of my Grandpa, but about 20 years younger. His eyes twinkled as he
related how Joyce had demanded to speak to me. He seemed to take it in stride
that she accused him of lying when he said I wasn’t at the Lighthouse Inn
anymore. In any case, he promised to get the message to me.

“Wow, I guess I’d better get back to her
right away, huh?” I took the note he gave me with Joyce’s number.

“Can’t blame you if you don’t,” George
smiled. He turned to a bar customer, “What can I get you, sir?”

Turning away from the bar, I almost
bumped into Cindy. She startled me—she came up behind me so quietly. On the
practical side, I knew she probably had a bar order for George to fill.
However, I couldn’t help but think she had been listening in on our
conversation. But why? Ever since Lizzy had accidentally spilled that coffee on
her, she had been inexplicably rude to us.

So, when I almost smacked into her, I
gasped. To my surprised gasp, she muttered, “Watch out, Clumsy,” as she put her
tray on the bar. Shrugging off her increasingly (and unaccountably) odd
behavior, I recovered quickly and said, “Hi Cindy! So sorry—I didn’t see you
there,” before running back to the storage room. Lizzy had told me Kitty had
put my stuff there.

As I made my way through the dining room
and back hallway, I waved to Lizzy, who was very busy serving tables. Since it
looked like all of her tables were full, I didn’t linger. It looked like I’d
have to wait for her tables to clear for a while before we could leave. Catching
her eye briefly, I gave her a quick wave. On my way to the storage area, I
heard footsteps behind me.

“Annie?” I recognized Millicent’s
gravelly voice and sighed, wondering what she wanted.

Turning to face her, I bit back a
smart-aleck answer and said, “Yes, what can I do for you, Millicent?” Forcing a
smile on my face, I willed myself to be nice to this woman and not let her
bitterness affect me.

“I heard you wanted to talk to Joyce. I
don’t know what you expect to get from her, but she’s a bit useless in the
head,” she tapped her own head to emphasize her point.

“She seemed fine to me.” Why I wanted
her to think I had talked to Joyce, I didn’t know. Maybe to get Millicent’s
goat? All I knew was this, my gut was telling me that Millicent was warning me
off talking to Joyce and I didn’t know why.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Millicent
hedged as she shifted uncomfortably to her other foot. “She seems okay, but I’ve
known her since kindergarten and she’s always been slow. She tries to make up
for it by exaggerating.” Hmmm, Millicent is a great friend. Not.

“Thanks for the tip, Millicent,” I said,
trying to slide away from her and towards the storeroom door. “I’ll keep that
in mind if I talk to her again.” As politely as I could, I excused myself and
practically sprinted the rest of the way to the storeroom.

Package in hand, I opted to slip out the
back door. I headed back to my car to call Joyce back in private. I knew that
Lizzy would want to come along for the interview.

Joyce answered on the first ring, “Hello?”
came a soft-as-silk voice.

“Hello,” I answered. “Is Joyce
available?”

“This is she.” Her? She sounded so sweet
and calm. George was afraid of her? She sounded like a gently bred older lady.

“Hello, Joyce. This is Annie Malone,” I
began, only to have her cut me off.

“Oh, so Annie Malone is deigning to call
me back,” she sniped. Her gentle voice was greatly at odds with her crabby
tones. I found the combination jarring. And I silently thanked George for
preparing me.

“I, um, well, I just got your message,”
and I thanked her for calling me so quickly, hoping to calm her. “And I was,
uh, hoping that I could stop by to talk to you about the house across the
street from you.”

“Why do you want to talk about those
bums? They have been nothing but a headache for our neighborhood, digging
holes, gallivanting all hours of the night.”

I decided to give her the partial truth,
“I’m ghostwriting book about a man named Marcos Landrostassis and I have reason
to believe he might be one of those ‘bums,” as you put it. I can’t seem to
reach him by phone. I figured if I could talk to his neighbors, I might be able
to glean more info on him.”

Just as I suspected it might, this
appealed to Joyce’s vanity. People liked to be “in the know.” I could hear her
preening over the phone. “You know, the things I could tell you about that
house. What did you say his name is again, Marcos? Constantly, people are in
and out of his house. Oh, of course, Marcos. He must be that dark-haired fella.
Yes, that makes sense. Oh, he is very Greco-European looking, I think.”
Fortunately, Joyce couldn’t hear me roll my eyes over the phone. She didn’t
miss a beat, “And he has women over all the time. He has at least five women
after him.”