Murder in Death's Door County (8 page)

During dinner, I brought Harry up-to-date
on the happenings with Marcos. Harry just shook his head. Clearly, he had dealt
with these shenanigans from Marcos in the past, which made Harry’s next words
so surprising. I had expected an understanding ear. I did not expect Harry’s
actual reaction.

“Crap, Annie. What did you do to set him
off? You are here to do a job. Now do it!”

Puzzled, I looked around at the other
patrons. People were starting to stare at us. “Um, Harry, can you please keep
it down a little? Why are you so upset with me?”

“You are gonna blow it! You seem
determined to make me, and the company I’ve built up from nothing, look
foolish!”

I started to sink in my seat. What on
earth prompted this outburst? This is just one client, and a rather batty one
at that.

After letting him rant for a few minutes
more, I finally found my voice, “Harry, why are you being this way? Look I
really need this job right now. Tell me how to fix things with Marcos.”

“Well, you should have thought of that
before you questioned him so harshly. I don’t know if you can fix this. It
might be too late. I could just kill you, Annie! I’m going to my room,” he
ground out. He threw a fifty on the table and got up. Before he left for his
room at the inn, he added, “Stop by my room tomorrow morning before I leave. Be
there at nine. Don’t be late. I need to think more about this situation before
we speak again.” Harry’s whole tone had shifted. He no longer sounded that
throwback to the ‘70s. No, now I thought he sounded more like a gangster from
the ‘20s. I imagined him with his hair slicked back and wearing spats. His
words came rat-a-tat, as if he fired them from a machine-gun. A shiver went up my
spine.

Turning around, he almost collided with
the owner of the inn, Kitty Breckenridge. Lizzy had introduced Kitty and I
earlier that afternoon, when I had wandered downstairs to take a brief break
from this project.

“Is everything okay, sir?” Kitty asked
his retreating back. He never turned around. Either he didn’t hear her or he
was that mad. Personally, I’d bet my money on the latter. She shifted her
concern to me, “Are you okay, hon?”

I just stared at the table in disbelief.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said after a long pause. “You know, I don’t think I’m the
right girl for this project.”

“What project?” Kitty asked, as she sat
down with me. Discreetly, the waitress cleared away Harry’s stuff, refilled my
drink, and brought Kitty a new drink.

Grateful for a sympathetic ear, I
unloaded the whole story on Kitty. Kitty listened attentively, asking questions
occasionally. I wrapped it up by telling her that Lizzy and Janie knew most of
the story, except for my last phone call with Marcos and, obviously, this
dinner.

“What do you think I should do, Kitty?
As a clearly successful businesswoman,” I swept my hand over the bustling
restaurant. “I really value your insight.”

“You want my honest opinion?”

“Yeah.”

“Run away from this project as fast as
you can. Something seems off. I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like it.
And, hey, if you need to do something different for a while, you can work here
in the restaurant. We are fairly busy with locals during the off-season, plus I
can include your room and board in your wages. But don’t decide tonight. Sleep
on it,” Kitty said as she got up. She looked meaningfully at Harry’s discarded
fifty. She picked it up and handed it to me as she added, “Oh, and by the way,
dinner’s on me tonight.” Winking, she left me to my thoughts.

Thanking her, I sighed and tried to
figure out what to do. I decided I had no choice but to wait until my morning
talk with Harry to make any decisions. The light of day might make everything
clearer for me.

—
–

I woke up determined to stick it out
with the book. After all, I had signed a contract with Harry. And although I
had no clue how to go about it, I needed to find peace with this project and
make things right with Harry and Marcos. I certainly didn’t understand this
project, but I knew I could get through it. Somehow, I’d need to stick to
really simple, boring questions and agree with whatever Marcos and Harry wanted
for the book. Then, after the book was done, I’d either take the job with Kitty
or… Hmm… I didn’t have a Plan B. Well, I definitely did not want to ghostwrite
another book. Ever. Again.

I made some coffee on the coffeemaker
the inn supplied. Mmmm… nothing like the smell of Door County Cherry-flavored
coffee. I had grown addicted to it during my short time up here. With the
coffee safely brewing, I padded into the bathroom and got ready for the day. I
put on a dressy white blouse, dark jeans, and brown leather boots. There! I
thought, dressy enough, but still casual. I threw on a bright scarf to top off
the outfit. Now I was ready for the coffee.

In honor of my newfound resolve, I
grabbed the marketing mug from the gift basket Harry had brought.

“Oof, wow, that’s heavy,” I muttered as I
hefted up the ceramic mug. It felt like it weighted at least a couple of
pounds. While preparing my coffee, I amused myself with the thought that the
ceramic served as a great hiding place for a special microfiche. Any moment, spies
would break through the door to commandeer the microfiche.

Shaking my head at my imagination, I
told myself, “That’s ridiculous! You’ve seen too many old movies. Besides,
microfiche isn’t that heavy.”

Coffee gone, I glanced up at the clock.
Darnit! I squinted, hoping I read it wrong. Nope, it said 8:59. I had
approximately one minute to hightail it to Harry’s room. I wasn’t really sure I
remembered which room was his. It was either Room 4 or 5? Or maybe Room 6? I
bit my bottom lip trying to recollect. Since I wanted grab more coffee and
breakfast after our meeting, I grabbed my leather jacket, purse, and keys.

Crap! I thought as I dashed down the
hall. I figured since I was in Room 3, I’d try 4 first since it was closest. I
knocked lightly on the door. A giggling blonde in a white silk bathrobe opened
the door. I could hear some male laughter in the background.

She greeted me, “Hi! Can we help you?”

“Come back to bed, honey!” I heard the
guy say. He didn’t sound like Harry, but I wasn’t sure.

I didn’t know where to look. Averting my
gaze, I muttered, “Sorry to interrupt, but uh, is this Harry’s room?”

Just then, the guy howled. The woman
giggled again.

Noticing my increasing blush, she
confided, “Don’t mind him, we’re on our honeymoon. I don’t know anyone called
Harry.”

With that, she shut the door.

Sighing, I fanned my face in a sad
attempt to cool down my red face. Fortunately, I got no response at Room 5,
even after knocking really loudly. With my jaw set in determination, I made my
way to what had to be Harry’s room.

Previously, Lizzy had explained that
Rooms 6 through 9 were on the third floor. I didn’t see anyone on my way up the
back stairs. The old inn had three floors total, four if you counted the
basement. Because the inn had originally been designed as a gangsters’ hideout,
it had been expanded over the years and the rooms were an eclectic hodge-podge
of mazes. Some rooms were huge, with three rooms within a suite; whereas, other
rooms were itty-bitty. When they bought the property, Kitty and Janie had
decided to keep as many of the inn’s original features as possible. As a
result, many of the huge oak doors now guarded the inn’s rooms like silent
sentries. The upside was that the doors were huge and very thick; the downside
was that they didn’t seem to lock properly until you really pulled them shut
(or forgot your keys).

At the top of the stairs, I checked the
clock on my cell phone. 9:03. Crap! I was late. Harry had distinctly said “don’t
be late.” Racing down the hall, I frantically located Room 6. In my haste, I
almost fell against the slightly ajar door. Stopping myself just in time, I
knocked on the doorframe. “Harry?” I knocked a little louder. “Harry? Are you
in there?” I asked, pushing the door open a little more. While I found it odd
that the door was open, nothing with this project had been remotely
predictable—why start now?

“Hello? Harry?” I called out
tentatively, as I entered the room with my eyes closed. I had two motives: I
didn’t want to see him in his skivvies and I really didn’t want to startle him.
Stepping inside Harry’s room, I noticed how much it resembled an attic room and
even had a gable window. With a window seat upholstered in striped shades of
blue. Swallowing down my envy over the pretty room, my eyes swept the rest of
the room. The southern-facing windows really brightened the room, bathing
everything in warmth and sunniness (which did nothing to decrease my envy). Harry
had lucked out view-wise, too. Since his room was on the third floor, he could
see over the treetops to the shores of Lake Michigan, which was only a block
from the inn. I noted Harry’s watch on the nightstand, next to his reading
glasses. He had his luggage arranged neatly in the corner and, presumably,
today’s outfit laid across an overstuffed chintz chair. Upon closer review, I espied
the corner of an envelope sticking out of his suit jacket and wondered if that
was my bonus check. Quickly, I strode across the room with the intention of…

“Miss! What are you doing?”

Crap. A maid would have to appear now.
With a guilty start, I turned around to face one of Kitty’s staff.

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?”

“I don’t see anyone else here, do I?”

I couldn’t even fathom going through the
whole story with her, so I made something up. I needed something to tell her,
fast. Something that would justify being in Harry’s room, without him.

“Oh, well, I’m just waiting for my
lover, Harry.” Lover? Oh my goodness, what had possessed me?

“Your lover?”

“Yes, yes, exactly. My lover. Harry and
I became involved in a purely physical relationship the last time I went to
Chicago and he visited me this weekend.” Pleased with myself, I smiled in smug
satisfaction.

“Hmmm… then you’d better tell that
blonde who visited his room last night that you are his lover,” the maid shot
back, putting an icky emphasis on “lover.”

Reading her nametag, I cleared my throat
nervously, “We have an open relationship. Anyway, what do you want, Millicent?
Can I help you?”

Millicent eyed me suspiciously, “No, no.
I was just getting a leg up on cleaning the rooms.”

I felt a pang of guilt. Cleaning the
whole inn, and without the benefit of an elevator, must be difficult. Millicent’s
untidy grey hair and imposing manner made her seem older than I thought, but
the job would even be tough for a younger woman. Maybe that’s why Millicent was
so bitter and cranky. I vowed to cut her some slack.

I said, with a forced lightness, “Then
you should probably get started. I’m sure Kitty’s wondering where you are. I
guess I’ll go then, too. Harry must have gone to breakfast without me. That
scamp!”

At the doorway, Millicent and I parted
ways. Waiting until Millicent turned the corner, I scuttled back into the room
and, again, tried to snag that envelope. However, something distracted me and out
of the corner of my eye, I saw a puddle of reddish brown water on the bathroom
floor. Reddish brown water? Determined to investigate, I walked across the
room. With a sinking feeling, I called, “Harry? Hello? Are you in here?”

No answer. Tentatively, I entered the
bathroom and saw the source of the puddle. Watery blood was running out of the
bathtub and onto the floor, with Harry smack dab in the middle. My vision got
very fuzzy and tunnel-like as Harry’s frozen face stared back at me.

I screamed.

Then, my world went black.

W
HEN I CAME TO, I SAW AT
LEAST
six faces hovering
over me. Oh wait, the six faces became three. Three very concerned faces swam
into focus. Kitty. Some cop. Oh, and a really dreamy dark-haired fella. I
smiled a little. At least I thought I did.

“Annie? Annie, what happened?”

“Are you okay?”

“Miss? Don’t sit up too suddenly. You’ve
had a shock.”

Their voices were wrapped in gauze.

Suddenly, the memory of finding Harry’s
naked and very dead body came flooding back to me. I started screaming and
tried to get up, only to be gently pushed back down by Donovan. Donovan? What
was he doing in my bedroom?

And why was I swimming in my bedroom? I
felt my wet sleeve. And realized my entire right side was wet. Ugh, gross.

“What happened?” I could hear Lizzy’s
voice as she approached the scene, as though it came from a tunnel.

“Hey Lizzy,” I heard Kitty’s
distinctively smoky voice. “Don’t worry, Annie’s just in shock. We’re not quite
sure what happened, but we’ve called 911.”

“911!” Lizzy sounded alarmed. “What on
earth happened?”

“911! For me? I’m fine, though,” I said,
as I struggled to sit up. “Oof, that wasn’t a good idea.”

Blood rushed to my head and it throbbed.