Dead Girl in a Green Dress (5 page)

"Not crazy at all," Tate reassured her. "I felt it too. Matter of fact, the whole place stinks like a cover up."

Chapter 4

Loud voices and thumping noises interrupted
Byrony’s
research into the Grand Hotel and its employees. Rubbing the back of her neck, she shut off her tablet and went to investigate. As she walked into the sitting room, she glimpsed a couple at the top of the stairs. Newly arrived guests?

The innkeeper, Mrs. Giroux bustled over from the lobby. "Oh, Miss Long, that’s Mr. and Mrs.
Rykoff
from Cheboygan. Could you please not mention anything about your sister in front of them? As sorry as I am for you, that kind of talk could ruin my business."

Byrony
reined in the sharp retort that rose to her lips. Instead she said, "Maybe you’d prefer to refund my four remaining days, and I’ll get a room somewhere else?"

The woman’s hands fluttered up to her throat and her eyes widened in alarm.
"Oh, no!
That won’t be necessary."

Hypocritical old witch
. But if she was the big busybody Sergeant Brandon claimed, maybe
Byrony
could get some useful information out of her.

Perching on the edge of the wood and velvet settee,
Byrony
asked, "So what do you think of the Grand Hotel, Mrs. Giroux?"

The woman frowned, clearly taken aback by the sudden question. "Well, it’s five-star rated by all the travel experts if that’s what you mean."

"Not exactly…"
 
Byrony
picked up a pillow with a needlepoint cover, thinking that she needed some lessons in interrogating a subject. She tried again, "It’s a beautiful place, and top quality,
I’m
sure. But when I was there this morning, I felt – I don’t know, maybe something is off?"

Mrs. Giroux rearranged the coasters on the glass coffee table. "You certainly won’t receive personal attention there like you will here, or most of the other
B&Bs
in town."

"Has it always been like that?"
Byrony
put down the pillow and watched the other woman carefully. "Or did it change in the last four or five years?"

 
The innkeeper gave a little snort. "Since Mr. and Mrs. Prince took over, you mean? I don’t think they’ve helped. He seems obsessed with changing things just for the sake of change, but at least he’s charming. She on the other hand—" The woman snorted again, and rolled her eyes. "Let’s just say she has a very high opinion of herself."

Byrony
curbed the urge to shout,
Ya
think?
Instead, she ingenuously asked, "So they aren’t well liked here on the island?"

"They don’t really associate with us common folks." Mrs.
Giroux’s
tone was practically a sneer.

But just when
Byrony
thought she was getting to some good stuff, the phone in the lobby rang. The innkeeper hastily excused herself, and
Byrony
went back to her room. As she sat in the window seat, she hoped Tate’s research had been more fruitful than hers.

A half-hour later, she decided to go out for an early dinner. Pizza was her comfort food of choice, so
Byrony
used her tablet to find a local place, then grabbed her sweatshirt and headed out the door. In the fading light, a chilly breeze blew dead and falling leaves down the road. When she turned the corner of the street facing the waterfront, her cell phone rang.

"Evening, Sunshine." Tate’s low, smoldering voice greeted her when she answered. "Had dinner yet?"

"Actually, I’m headed for Island Pizzeria right now. Want to join me?" As soon as the question slipped out,
Byrony
hoped she didn’t sound too desperate.

Tate gave a slight chuckle. "Why Miss Long, I thought you’d never ask. Go ahead and order a large with lots of meat. I’ll meet you there as soon as I turn my ride in at the livery."

"Okay, see you." A little thrill of excitement raced through her as
Byrony
clicked off and shoved her phone back inside her purse. She couldn’t believe talking to him for less than two minutes left her breathless as a high school girl. But the truth was, she didn’t wanted to eat dinner alone, and Tate was the only person on the island she knew. That and the fact that she was anxious to hear what he’d found out were the only reasons she was eager to see him she told herself.

Nothing else
.
Like she believed that lie.

Patrons filled the tiny pizza restaurant. By the time
Byrony
stood in the line and placed her order, only one empty table remained. Dirty dishes and two beer mugs littered the middle of it. Half the customers crowded close to the big screen TV mounted in the far corner, where a hockey game flickered. Loud laughter and periodic shouts erupted from the crowd. After a long five minutes, the place’s lone waitress finally appeared, and with a muttered apology cleared the table.

She reappeared with clean silverware and a basket of freshly baked breadsticks. "On the house since you have to wait."

Byrony
had just finished the second breadstick when Tate walked in the door. The slow smile that spread across his face made the pulse in her throat jump.
So much for her rationalizations.
The man oozed sex appeal. He sat down and reached for a breadstick.

The waitress suddenly became very efficient and appeared at his elbow. "Get you something?"

Tate looked her up and down with the unhurried, deliberate way
Byrony
recognized. "Sure, sweetheart. I’ll take a beer. Whatever you have on tap is fine. Want one, Sunshine?"

Byrony
shook her head, while the waitress snapped her gum and flounced away. Tate held his breadstick like a cigar and bit off the tip.

"Sweetheart?"
Byrony
queried with exaggerated incredulity. "I can’t believe you haven’t been slapped with a sexual harassment suit."

"She didn’t look harassed to me," he countered with a wink.

However,
Byrony
couldn’t make a retort, for she could see the waitress headed back to their table, balancing a full mug in one hand and their pizza in the other. As the woman bent to place both items on the table, even from where she sat,
Byrony
could see down her loose neckline to her lacy, push-up bra. But Tate seemed more interested in the fragrant pizza.

One of the hockey fans yelled for another pitcher of beer, and the woman rolled her eyes as she straightened. "Holler if you need anything else," she said as she sashayed away.

Sniffing appreciatively, Tate served up a slice for
Byrony
and then one for himself. "
You done
good on this one, Sunshine."

"They call it the carnivore special."

"Yes, indeed!" Tate enthused. Then he proceeded to polish off three slices and half his beer in the same time it took
Byrony
to finish her first piece.

When she was halfway through her second slice, the hockey game ended amid much hooting and
exclamations,
and most of the crowd started to disperse. With the noise reduced to a manageable level,
Byrony
decided to ask if Tate’s afternoon endeavors had been more successful than hers.

"So did you get in touch with Cody Henry?" she asked between bites.

"Course I did." He took a gulp of beer, picked up another slice,
then
asked, "You up for a ferry ride to St.
Ignace
in the morning? Before you say yes, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow."

"I brought an umbrella."
Byrony
nibbled for a few more moments, but when Tate didn’t say more, she prodded again. "So did you rent a buggy from the livery?"

He shook his head, his too-long blond hair falling across his forehead. "I never drove a team, so I borrowed a horse from the
Sarge
.
Took a little ride out to visit our buddy Mister J. Saunders from the Grand Hotel."

"J. Saunders?"
Byrony
mused, taking another bite before she made the connection. "You mean the twitchy guy in the suit?"

"The very one," Tate confirmed, one dimple briefly visible. "Mr. Justin Saunders is an assistant manager of the hotel dining room. I found his address and dropped by to see him when I knew he was off work. He wasn’t a bit happy to see me, wouldn’t even open his door,
much
less ask me in."

As Tate paused to imbibe more of his beer, a flash of excitement raced through
Byrony’s
nervous system. "Do you think he’s hiding something?"

"Maybe, but maybe not."
Tate took another leisurely bite of pizza, and
Byrony
clenched her hands to keep from shaking more words out of him. Finally he continued. "He said he’d told the Mac City police everything, and I should talk to them. But I got the distinct impression he was under orders to keep quiet."

Byrony
stuck her nose in the air and adopted a haughty tone.
"Mrs. Cristina
Woodleigh
-Prince, by any chance?"
Then when Tate gave a low chuckle, she added, "She’s not well-liked around here according to my innkeeper Mrs. Giroux. Can you imagine?"

"Maybe they haven’t heard of her mother either." He didn’t crack another smile, but chewed with a thoughtful expression. "Find out anything else from the knowledgeable Mrs. Giroux?"

"Just that Mr. Prince is charming,"
Byrony
admitted with a sigh. "Maybe you should try your hand with her."

Nodding, Tate finished his fourth slice and raised one eyebrow. "And maybe you should take a shot with Mr. J. Saunders. You might be more his type."

"Really?"
Byrony’s
mouth fell open at the realization he was asking for her assistance. "I mean, not about being his type, but you’d let me question him?"

He shrugged and reached for slice number five. "You’re so blasted determined to help me, why not? The dude
ain’t
talking to me. But first we have to meet with Mr. Cody Henry. The earliest ferry to St.
Ignace
leaves at nine tomorrow morning, and I’ve already booked our tickets."

Still flabbergasted over Tate letting her take an active part in the investigation,
Byrony
could only nod like a bobble-head.

"Good, I’ll meet you at the pier at 8:45." Tate finished off his last piece of pizza, wiped his hands,
then
eyed her half-eaten slice. "You
gonna
finish that?"

***

The next morning, Tate pulled his Cubs hat more firmly over his eyes and hunched his shoulders against the drizzly rain. He’d already spoken to the detectives in Mac City to ask about a few details of the case, like time of death and the
tox
report. If
Byrony
was truthful about her sister not taking drugs, how had she wound up with all those sedatives in her system? And how could witnesses have seen Jessica walking around downtown when she’d had enough drugs in her to knock out a horse?
   

Detective Shaffer had grudgingly agreed to look into the inconsistencies and get back to him, so Tate had to let such slipshod police work ride for the moment, even if it irritated him.

He squinted at the people with umbrellas dodging each other up and down the sidewalk until he spotted
Byrony
. Even though she was half-concealed by her black umbrella, he recognized her walk, and waved to get her attention. They both ducked under the protective alcove that was the entrance to the ferry pier.

"I’d have pegged you as a Sox fan," she said as she closed her umbrella.

"Not in this lifetime. Want a cup of coffee?"

A little grin flickered across her pretty face. "Sure. I take cream but no sugar."

They were the last two people on the ferry, but had no problem finding seats inside. In the half-hour it took to reach the town of St.
Ignace
on the
upper peninsula
, the rain had stopped, which was fortunate because they had to stand in the ferry parking lot to flag down a taxi.

"This is more like it,"
Byrony
declared as she slid into the back seat of the car.

"Two horsepower not your speed, Sunshine?"
Tate teased as he climbed in next to her.

"Not like you, Cowboy." She smelled of rain and coffee, and the heat of their thighs pressing together in the crowded back seat gave Tate’s hormones a distracting jump start.

By the time they reached the main street of St.
Ignace
, the windows of the cab were covered in steamy fog and they couldn’t see anything.

"This the right place?" the cabbie asked.

Tate got out and stared at the papered windows of the empty storefront. "Looks like it." He paid the driver and offered
Byrony
a hand.

Frowning, she followed his gaze. "Why are we meeting Cody Henry here?"

"His father is a plumbing contractor, and Cody is helping him redo this soon-to-be deli," Tate explained, as he rapped on the glass paned front door. He was just about to knock again when the door swung open and a dark-haired kid in a ripped T-shirt stood there. Tate extended his hand. "Cody Henry? I’m Tate Madison and this is Miss
Byrony
Long."