Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 03 - Haunted (8 page)

“No, I bought mostly paper products today. We were running low on toilet paper and paper towels. I also bought several bags of candy to hand out to trick-or-treaters.”

The Alexandria Inn was billed as a bread and breakfast but offered much more. Breakfast was served, as well as dinner, in the formal dining room. Tea or coffee, and an afternoon snack was also available in the parlor, at least when coffins and/or dead vampires were not on display in that room. I even served lunch when the occasion called for it.

Free museum excursions and walking tours were offered, as well as shuttle service to nearby casinos and shopping areas. I’d led groups through the local museums more times than I cared to count. Other personalized arrangements could be made, as well. We did whatever we could to ensure we had thoroughly satisfied guests in hopes they’d return often, and would also encourage others to visit our establishment. It was basically an all-inclusive inn, with Stone and me, and our seasonal help, taking care of every want or whim our customers could come up with. It wasn’t even unusual for us to lend out our personal vehicles.

Stone joined me in the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a piece of a store-bought crumb cake I’d just brought in from my Jeep, before heading back outside to clean up his mower and park it back in the maintenance shed. I was relieved my whereabouts that morning never came up in conversation again. I rinsed off our dishes and placed them in the dishwasher as Stone stood up to leave.

“Why did I install a brand new dishwasher if you insist on washing the dishes before you put them in the dishwasher?” he asked me in jest.

“I’m just rinsing off the chunks of food so they don’t clog up the pipes. I’m not actually washing them, and you know it,” I answered playfully, as I snapped the back of his jeans with my damp dishtowel. “Now get your buns out of my kitchen!”

As soon as Stone left, I picked my cell phone up off the counter and dialed Wendy. She answered on the first ring. She was living in a small apartment in St. Joseph, but spent many evenings with Stone and me at the inn. She even occasionally spent the night with me in Shawnee. She claimed to get very lonely in her studio apartment. She’d always been a very social person, unlike me, who enjoyed time alone now and then. Having less personal time had been one of the adjustments I’d had to make when I became involved with Stone. Now I missed his company when I was by myself.

“Were you just sitting around waiting for the phone to ring?” I asked Wendy.

“Actually, I was just getting ready to call you when it rang,” Wendy said. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I answered. I didn’t mention my morning episode with the cheerleaders, as she could be as incessantly over-protective as Stone. “Have you learned anything new about Walter’s murder?”

“No, I was just going to ask you the same thing. I thought maybe you’d heard from the police department. I know Wyatt stops by the inn just about every day.”

“That’s because I bake fresh pastries just about every day,” I said, with amusement in my voice. Wendy knew I was very fond of the detective, and she liked him a lot too. If she weren’t so infatuated with Stone’s nephew, Andy, who lived on the east coast, she probably would have been interested in dating Wyatt. But Wyatt had not been on the market since Veronica had come back into his life.

Wendy still spoke with Andy nearly every day. She’d met him shortly after I met his uncle, Stone. He’d flown back several times in the following months, and Wendy and Andy spent much of his time here together.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s part of it, but I also know Wyatt enjoys visiting with you and Stone. It gives him something to do when police business is slow in Rockdale. Fortunately, random murders, like that of Walter, are very rare in your neck of the woods. Not that they are all that frequent here in St. Joseph.”

“Yes, well, at least they were rare in Rockdale until the Alexandria Inn opened for business, according to Wyatt.”

“The inn did liven up the police department, didn’t it? Before long the Rockdale Police Department will need its own homicide division,” Wendy said.

“You sound just like Wyatt now.”

Wendy chuckled over the phone. “Well, I’ve got to take my car for an oil change this afternoon so I’ll let you go for now. Give me a ring if anything comes up.”

“Okay,” I said. “You do the same.”

* * *

I glanced at the clock as I heard a car pulling up in the driveway. It was ten minutes after three, so I knew the Dudleys had arrived. Eleanor Dudley had informed me on the phone they expected to arrive no later than four in the afternoon. I’d just placed the pork roast in the oven, and now I quickly turned the teakettle on so the water would be warmed up by the time Eleanor and Steve Dudley had stowed their luggage and washed up. I didn’t know if they preferred tea or coffee, so I was prepared for either case.

When I stepped out on the back porch to greet them, I noticed Detective Wyatt Johnston talking to Stone over by the maintenance shed. Stone was pouring fertilizer into a walk-behind spreader. I was anxious to see if Wyatt had anything new to report. His friendship with Stone was just one more reason I appreciated him. He gave Stone someone to buddy around with.

I quickly led the Dudleys to their suite. As the only guests, they were ensconced in the nicest suite on the second floor. Tea was their preference, so I told them it would be served whenever they were ready for it. They could take their time unpacking and freshening up from their long day on the road. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep my eyes off an unsightly growth on the side of Mrs. Dudley’s chin. It was the size of a quarter and had sprouted something that reminded me of a Chia Pet I’d once owned.

The rest of Eleanor’s face bore a week’s worth of boldly colored makeup, taking away from the brilliance of her strikingly beautiful blue eyes. She was shaped very much like a pear, with almost no shoulders, and a butt that spanned the entire width of the suite’s door. She wore a white tennis dress, stretched taut across her backside, and spiked white heels with shiny sequins across the top. Had no one told her you shouldn’t wear white after Labor Day? And you really shouldn’t wear any color of spiked heels with a too-tight tennis dress. I could hardly wait to see what she chose to wear to their family reunion the following weekend.

At least Steve Dudley, in comparison to his wife, was very bland and average in appearance. He was the type of person you could talk to for an hour, and then not recognize the next day. He kind of blended in with the woodwork, but he seemed like a very nice gentleman.

I got the Dudleys settled into their suite and made a beeline for Wyatt and Stone in the backyard. As I approached, I could hear them discussing the intricacies of a 200-horsepower Mercury motor. I stood silently for a minute or so, trying to appear interested as Wyatt told Stone about his new Ranger bass boat. I failed miserably and lost my patience with the present conversation. Needing a segue, I leapt at the first opportunity I could grasp.

“Thrust?” I asked innocently. “Did you say something about thrust? Speaking of thrust, Wyatt, I’m so sorry another murder case has been thrust upon you. Oh, yeah, and about that, have you heard anything new on the case?”

“Well, we’ve been interviewing relatives, and the few adult visitors to the haunted house you could remember,” Wyatt Johnston said. “None of them have had much input. None claim to have any involvement in the murder or have any information about it to relate. Most of the haunted house visitors had never even heard of Walter Sneed.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” I said. “Most were young mothers, or grade school teachers.”

“As you may already know, Walter’s mother, Melba Sneed, is still in the hospital. She’s become even nuttier than ever, impossible to question. When the name ‘Walter’ was mentioned by a detective, she thought he was the housekeeper. She asked if he could come sweep under her bed. She was sure she’d heard sounds of mice scurrying beneath the bed, and wanted to assure there were no food scraps scattered about that would attract more varmints.

“It appears her mental state has become completely unstable in her grief and anguish,” Wyatt said, with compassion in his deep voice. “I hope she can come around enough to attend her son’s funeral. I think I read in the paper it’s scheduled for Wednesday morning at ten, with a wake Tuesday evening.”

“Where will it be?” Stone asked.

“I have no idea, I’ve forgotten what the paper said,” Wyatt said. “But I could—”

“I know where,” I interrupted. “I called the funeral home this morning. The visitation will be held at the Catholic Church at Fourth and Cyprus, from six to eight. Walter will be laid to rest at St. Mary’s Catholic Cemetery, directly behind the church.”

“Okay,” Stone said. “I’ll have to find something to wear.”

“Your brown suit has just been dry-cleaned, Stone, but I’ll have to go home and bring back some decent clothes to wear to both the wake and funeral. I don’t have anything here that’s appropriate.”

“It looks like Walter’s father will be in town for the funeral. While we were notifying the next of kin, we discovered Clarence Sneed had come back for the Rockdale High School thirtieth class reunion,” Wyatt said. “At least he won’t have to make a special trip back here.”

That answered one question I had. It had seemed like too much of a coincidence to me that Walter’s father would show up in town the same week his son was killed. At least he had a logical reason to be in Rockdale right now. For some reason, I was kind of disappointed by the news.

“Do you know who made the funeral arrangements?” Wyatt asked.

“I’m not certain if Chuck or Clarence were involved, but I got the impression from the funeral director his sister, Sheila Talley, took care of the details all by herself. He said she complained bitterly about every charge incurred, like the cost of their cheapest casket, a flower spread to drape over the casket, transportation of the body, the necessity of a vault and embalming, and so on. Sheila was considering cremation, even though it goes against her personal beliefs, but she finally decided against it.”

Wyatt nodded, and said, “I’m sure the financial aspects of it do concern her. Funerals cost a mint these days, and I don’t think she has a lot of money to spare. Most likely she resents having to spend what little she does have on her brother. She doesn’t make much money as a clerk at the local pet store. Sheila lives over on Oak, close to the hardware store her father once owned. I think it’s the old family homestead Sheila and Walter grew up in.”

“Does she live with Melba?” I asked.

“No,” Wyatt answered. “Her mother moved to a much smaller house downtown when the old family home got to be too much for her to take care of. Not that Sheila has taken very good care of the poor old house either. It’s an older, two-story home, pretty run-down, with peeling pale yellow paint and a sagging front porch. Last I knew there was an old toilet propped up against a tree in the front yard.”

I filed this information in my memory bank, intent on speaking with Sheila myself the first opportunity I got. I could surely find Sheila’s home. How many old pale yellow houses with toilets in the front yard could there be on Oak Street?

Chapter 7

Dinner with the Dudleys went perfectly, except for the fact that Eleanor, like Walter, was a vegetarian, and Steve was allergic to pork. Other than pork, he told me, he was very receptive to meat. The fried potatoes I prepared were burnt to a crisp and the green beans tasted like wax imitations of themselves when I sampled them. They obviously had needed to be put on the burner earlier. I’d been too preoccupied while fixing supper, I guess.

I called the local pizza shop and ordered a large meat lover’s pizza for the men, a medium veggie lover’s special for Eleanor and me, and an order of breadsticks. I’m not a vegetarian, but I’m not a big meat eater either.

Thank God the Dudleys were extremely fond of pizza. I scrapped the potatoes and beans, and put the roast in the fridge for Stone to munch on later. I’m sure he could coerce Wyatt to help him take care of the leftovers.

I somehow managed to polish off two pieces of the veggie pizza while I watched the growth on Eleanor’s chin quiver as she chewed. I had to take deep breaths to keep from upchucking. Still, like a train wreck about to happen in front of my eyes, I couldn’t force myself to look away.

Chatting with Steve and Eleanor over supper, we learned they planned to spend the following day at the riverboat casino in nearby St. Joseph. They were anxious to try the casino’s big buffet so they wouldn’t be around the entire day, including dinner. Tomorrow was Sunday, when the casino restaurant offered all the seafood you could eat on the buffet, which appealed to Steve. I was sure they’d be happy to try any buffet after my dinner fiasco. Eleanor told me the buffet offered a wide variety of fresh vegetables and a great salad bar, also. I was sure Stone considered inviting himself along with the Dudleys for the Sunday buffet, after my disastrous dinner.