Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn (19 page)

“Welcome, Mystery Maiden.” Martha smiled warmly. “You know, there were times when I used to wish Gregorio dead. I knew the power of visualization, and I visualized a Mack truck smashing him flat. That was my favorite fantasy.” Despite her words, I could tell she was shaken by her ex-husband’s death. “But I never, not in a million years, imagined him getting murdered.”

As Beethoven played, Martha climbed onto the stationary bicycle and started pedaling. She had long, slender legs, obviously visible through the trim, pink sweats. No wonder Xavier was interested. Though in her fifties, Martha had the body of most thirty-somethings. She was probably in better shape than I, as I just provided the machines, but didn’t use them very often.

“But I don’t think you came here to listen to my fantasies,” Martha said, not even breathing heavily. “What’s on your mind?”

A thought hit me. “When you arrived, you told me your husband was dead.”

She smiled. “No, actually, I told you I recently
lost
my husband. You assumed I meant he was dead.”

“You are very sneaky.”

“I know. It’s one of my most endearing qualities.”

I shook my head. “I know this is none of my business, but I’m wondering if it’s true that you are Calabria’s wife.”

“Oh, darling. I am most fortunate to be his
ex
-wife. Who told you that? Oh, let me guess. His lovely, little Fluffi.”

I hesitated.

Martha nodded and said, “So what story did they tell you about me?”

Embarrassed, I admitted, “That you have power of attorney.”

She laughed. “Honey, I was written out of the will long ago and never had power of attorney. BJ is just yanking your chain.” Then she glanced at me and took pity. She stopped cycling. “Listen, I wouldn’t even care, except for my children. I’ll speak to them, and I’ll also contact Gregorio’s attorney. Phil will handle everything on the legal end. Don’t worry.”

“Your children,” I repeated, realizing how devastated they would be at hearing about their father’s murder. “Oh, my gosh, your children!”

Martha sighed. “They’ll be all right. I came here to talk with Gregorio about our children. About spending more time with them. He’s been so busy with his new bimbo, he was neglecting them. Neglecting me is one thing. But you don’t dare neglect my babies.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Two. One is in graduate school. The younger one is trying to find himself, or something like that.” She pedaled again. “You know, I have all the money I need from some investments, so I didn’t need the money from the agency; but it wasn’t right, what Gregorio did. The agency was a partnership— his and mine. Only when we got the divorce, I found out he put everything in his name from the start, so I got nothing.”

“That’s horrible.” I thought for a moment. “How did you know he’d let you stay at the Inn when you showed up unexpectedly?”

“Oh, darling, Gregorio loves drama.” She paused and sighed. “He
loved
drama. I knew he couldn’t resist having what looked like two women fighting over him. He was in lothario heaven.”

The CD switched to the next track, and in the momentary silence, I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.

And the drone of another snowmobile.

Martha asked, “Did Gregorio pay for the rooms?”

“The first half. We never handled the second half. My fault. I didn’t get him to do it immediately.” My stupid, stupid fault.

“I’m sorry, but not surprised.” Martha shrugged. “And I’m extra sorry; after all, it’s because of your Murder Mansion the SOB is finally gone from my life. Now that he’s gone, I’m free to sign my authors again, if they want to come back. I’m the one who originally contracted with them anyway. Gregorio stole them from me.” She smiled widely. “Surprisingly enough, though, I won’t be picking up BJ’s option.”

Martha started pedaling again.

Taking the cue, I left the workout room and veered toward the kitchen. The back door opened, and Paul stomped the snow from his feet and stepped inside.

I smiled at my brother. “I am incredibly glad to see you. Have you had any breakfast yet?”

“Are you kidding? Jennifer hasn’t fed me in three days and I wouldn’t presume to ask for food when she’s this close to delivering.”

“Oh, you poor baby. You certainly look starved.” I patted the slight overhang of his stomach resulting from Jennifer’s alleged neglect. “Go on in and grab some grub.”

Paul hung his snow-flecked coat onto the hook by the back door. “What are you in the mood for first? Good news or bad?”

“Oh, please,” I said. “Good news only today. Tell me you have a new cute, little baby boy in your family.”

“Nope. Still hibernating in mommy’s tummy. No, the good news is no one’s been murdered in Silver City so far today.”

I sighed. “And I suppose I can’t avoid the bad news.”

“Wait, there’s more good news. I brought Henry Susselman up with me to fix your telephone line.”

“A telephone repairman. Definitely good news.”

He handed me a newspaper. Today’s
Silver City Sentinel
.

I flipped it open.

Stopped. Stared.
Swore
.

There, in big, black, block letters was the headline that could sink my new business:

LOCAL MURDER MYSTERY INN TROUBLE
.

“Tell me this is a nightmare and I’ll be waking up soon.”

“Oh, it’s a nightmare, all right.” Paul leaned against the counter. “But it could go both ways. It’ll scare some people off, and possibly attract others.”

“I’m not sure I want guests who are attracted to a real murder.” I wondered how many potential customers would read this and decide to go elsewhere. But what could I do? “Did the bigger papers pick it up? The
Salt Lake Tribune
or
Deseret News
?”

“Not yet. But give ‘em time.”

“Who on earth told the newspaper?”

“You did.”

I looked up at him, indignant. “I never called anyone.”

“Nope, you never did. You didn’t have to. You waltzed into my den and told their new ace reporter.”

Stunned, I asked, “David What’s-his-name works for the
Sentinel
?”

“Yup. David Weston works for the
Sentinel
.”

I swore again.

“Yup.” Paul leaned close and whispered. “Watch your mouth or Mom’ll wash it out with soap.”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

“Well, then watch out before Grandma hears you.”

I sighed. What two days ago would have seemed like a big deal, all of a sudden didn’t. “It’s okay to swear when your life turns into a nightmare.”

“Right.” Paul nodded in agreement. “In that case… where are the darn eggs?”

“That’s it? That’s the best you can do?”

He shrugged. “I’m housebroken. What can I say?”

* * *

Paul had only been gone from the dining room a few minutes when I heard more snowmobiles out front. I made my way to the front door and peered through the glass.

Snow was still falling heavily, but letting up. The flakes were smaller now, too. If we were lucky, the storm would be over by Sunday, when the guests were scheduled to leave.

I watched DeWayne, standing at the corner on a mound of snow, motioning the snowmobiles around the house.

Judging from the way Paul bolted from the dining room, he would undoubtedly be joining them as soon as he swallowed his breakfast.

I let the lace curtain fall over the window as I heard the back door opening. Behind me, some of the authors, bundled up, headed outside, shutting the door behind them. They probably wanted to be as close to the action as possible to talk murder.

I stepped into the kitchen. Liz and Stephanie were playing cards with Zach. Zach was grinning. “Give me all your threes.”

“You win too often,” said Liz, passing over two cards, and teased,“are you sure you’re not cheating?”

Zach laughed. “I don’t have to cheat to beat you, Aunt Liz.”

“Is that right?” She stood and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottled water. She glanced toward the window. “You’ll never believe this, Vicki.”

“What?”

She motioned me over. When I stood at the window, she pointed and said, “I do declare that looks like our grandmother.”

“Grandma’s out in the snow discussing murder?” I spotted her immediately in her dark maroon coat, clustered with the authors halfway to the carriage house. “She’s gonna freeze.”

“She’s got love to keep her warm. Isn’t that sweet? She and Dr. Ray are holding hands.”

I looked out. “Well, touching mittens, anyway.”

“Mittens, whatever, their hands are in close vicinity with each other. Sheesh, Vicki, you take the fun out of things.”

I smiled. “Sorry.”

“I’m going back to play with Zach.”

And I was going out to see what was so fascinating.

Two sheriffs tacked yellow crime scene tape across the carriage house door. A third laid down a ruler onto the snow and a fourth snapped a picture of it. The ruler must have been for scale, but I couldn’t see what they were measuring with it. The other deputies were still inside the carriage house, gathering evidence.

As I came up behind the group of authors (and Grandma), I heard Martha say, “I can’t believe it was one of us.” It was easy to hear her, as the snow was falling quietly now. “How could it be someone we’ve worked with for years? Gregorio may have deserved to die, but it couldn’t have been any of us.” Martha paused for a moment. “Unless it was BJ, and she started screaming afterward.”

“I think it was Kevin Higgins.” Clark Harmon shook his head, his breath puffing out visibly before him. “He already attacked Gregorio once. He slashed both Lonny and Alexis. He ran away and cut the phone lines. I believe he’s the murderer.”

“Kevin?” Garrett shook his hooded head. “He was angry, but I don’t feel he was capable of murder. He’s all braggadocio and no substance.”

Martha said, “All hot air and no balloon?”

Garrett nodded. “You got it. All talk and no walk.”

Dr. Ray shook his head. “I think anyone can be pushed to murder if they feel passionate enough about something. Even us. It looks like Kevin, but that’s not necessarily the truth.”

Garrett scowled again. “It’s some psychopath.”

“You are absolutely right, Garrett,” Martha agreed wholeheartedly. “Only a psychopath could do something like this. Or a woman scorned. Gregorio’s the straying kind. And the first discovery of it is the worst. I should know. I could have killed the SOB myself back then.”

“How about now?” Garret asked teasingly.

Martha shook her head. “I stopped caring a long time ago.”

Garrett scrunched his lips for a moment. “I think it’s someone not staying at the Inn at all. Maybe visiting just long enough to punch out Gregorio. Some drifter, perhaps.”

“That’s far too coincidental,” said Dr. Ray.

Grandma gazed up at him, like I’d seen her look at no one else besides my grandfather, which was somewhat disconcerting. I suspected her cheeks were flushed with more than just the cold.

Dr. Ray said, “And what was this very coincidental person doing on the mountain in the middle of what I heard the police chief say was the worst storm in a decade?”

Garrett said, “If we knew that, we’d know who the murderer is.”

“I think we do know,” Clark said. “Kevin Higgins.”

“That’s just so… obvious, darling.” Martha touched Clark on the arm. “You weren’t here to see him attack Gregorio.”

It seemed obvious to me. Yes, Kevin was the murderer. But I wasn’t an author with an overly active imagination.

Clark smiled. “Perhaps that makes me more objective.”

Dr. Ray repeated, “It could be any of us.”

“Here comes an officer.” Grandma motioned.

I looked up. Two of the four dark-blue-coated deputies were working their way through the snow from the carriage house.

“Hey, Joe, give us a hand,” one of the other two called out, and the man detoured off to join the other two men.

The second deputy turned out to be a woman, and could also have been Halle Berry’s stunt double. “Which of all y’all is the owner of the Who-Dun-Him Inn?”

Chapter Fourteen

I put up my hand and smiled half-heartedly.

She nodded pleasantly at me, and turned to the gaggle of authors. “Just wanted to let you know we cannot prevent you from leaving, but we’d appreciate it if you stayed until we take secondary statements. For now, we’d like to ask y’all to go back inside.”

As the authors began to move away, I said, “Yes?”

The woman asked, “Are you Paul Ross’s sister?”

When I nodded, she said, “I’m Deputy Mary Beth Shannon. The man who was with me is Lt. Joe Josephson; can you believe parents would burden a child with a name like that? We’ll be here about another hour, and then we’ll release the scene back to your brother.”