Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom (17 page)

“It seems odd to just
cut up the fruit bushes. Why not do the roses too?”

“Maybe the thorns were
a deterrent,” Lacey replied thoughtfully. “There’s nothing worse
then getting all tangled up in those sharp barbs. It can be
painful.”

“It’s possible Bur
interrupted the game plan before they were able to finish their
handiwork,” Thaddeus theorized.

“You said it could have
been done as a distraction, so that Neil and his buddy could get
into the Wilkies’ room to steal something,” I reminded
Kenny.

“I did suggest that,”
he agreed readily. “It’s possible they waited for you to notice
them and take action.”

“In other words, you’re
suggesting they were out there a while,” Lacey remarked, “snipping
off branches?”

“I am.”

“It would be awful if
they just kept hacking up the bushes because you didn’t see them
out there, Scarlet.” My mother was clearly upset by the vandalism.
“They might have destroyed everything.”

“Then again, maybe they
were killing two birds with one stone,” Lacey added, tapping her
index finger against her chin as she considered the scenario. “What
if the ringleader is someone local, who knows how important the
Four Acorns Inn gardens are to the people around
here?”

That sounded like a
very real possibility. My brother and I had spent the last couple
of years expanding the gardens as an outdoor guest sanctuary.
Around Cheswick, when word spread that our butterfly garden was
glorious in full bloom, the local art guild asked permission for
their members to set up their easels for painting parties. The
local paper even sent a photographer to capture the action. If
someone wanted to ruin the Four Acorns Inn, destroying the
landscaped grounds would be a start.

“It feels like we’re
watching a theatrical production staged for our benefit,” Thaddeus
told the group. “There’s lots of bark, but not so much
bite.”

“Whoever is behind this
effort wants everyone at the Four Acorns Inn terrified,” said our
security expert.

“And all of our
neighbors, too,” my mother decided. “How many times in the past two
days have we had to call the police? We’re starting to become the
talk of the neighborhood. If this keeps up, Karin Frenlind is going
to look like Sergeant Sarah Brown of the Save-a-Soul Mission in
comparison.”

“I think we can be
pretty sure no one’s trying to take over the Four Acorns Inn for a
floating crap game,” said Bur, picking up on the reference
to
Guys and Dolls
and running with it. “I wonder if Karin’s
involved with some kind of criminal enterprise and she’s using her
thugs to gain control over the neighborhood dice
game.”

“But instead of Sky
Masterson and Nathan Detroit, we’ve got Neil Kradic and his unknown
accomplice,” Lacey pointed out.

“I don’t know.” Kenny
stroked that fabulously chiseled chin of his as he pondered the
situation. “From a law enforcement perspective, this campaign of
harassment has been relatively harmless in terms of actual physical
damage to people or property. It’s been staged in different areas
on the grounds and even inside the house, which suggests a
familiarity with the Four Acorns Inn.”

“How can you say that
it’s harmless? Jenny and Shark Boy were certainly in danger when
they were stranded on the highway,” I pointed out huffily, “and
what about Dave Wilkie and his homemade bomb? That could have blown
the front door right off its hinges.”

“But these things
happened off-stage, so to speak, and the actors hung around to play
their parts. Wilkie was planning to remain after his device went
off. I hardly think he would have done so if he believed his life
was in any real danger.”

“I suppose that’s
true,” I grudgingly admitted. “But why did Neil and his friend
trash the White Oak room?”

“On the one hand, it
looks like vandalism, but on the other, it could have been cover
when they needed to find something the Wilkies had in their
room.”

“At least none of the
guests has been attacked...yet,” my mother said. “I wonder if
that’s significant.”

“There’s got to be a
specific purpose behind these acts, one that makes sense to the
mastermind.” The good doctor stretched his legs out in front of
himself as he shifted in his chair.

“What if Neil and his
friend were hired
because
they were high
school students when I was still teaching? Are the police supposed
to believe it’s just an old vendetta of sorts, so they don’t look
for the brains behind the bad behavior?”

“Well, all I know is
that I have the urge to run away,” Laurel acknowledged, “far, far
away.”

“I know the feeling,”
Lacey agreed, shaking her head.

“Why would someone need
to intimidate the residents of the Four Acorns Inn? What would they
get out of it?” Dr. Van Zandt wondered. “I don’t suppose you have
hidden treasure on the premises.”

“Not to my knowledge,”
my mother smiled, her sense of humor briefly surfacing. “It’s not
like we’re dripping in diamonds or mink.”

“You ladies must
certainly have your share of male admirers. Perhaps one of your
rivals has it in for you.”

My mother shook her
head before she spoke. “I don’t get out much. Lacey, on the other
hand....”

“Me? Sure, I date a
bit, but I never date married men. It’s against my
principles.”

“Bob Morelli has a
fiancée. Isn’t that what you told me the other
day?”

“He’s sort of engaged,”
was Lacey’s reply.

“Say what?” Bur’s
eyebrows shot up as a smile played on his face. “What qualifies as
‘sort of engaged’ in your book?”

The Googins girls went
back and forth on Bob’s status, finally deciding that since he had
proposed, but hadn’t actually bought a ring for the woman he had
been seeing for the better part of a year, technically speaking,
the man wasn’t engaged.

“I’m pretty sure the
lady won’t see it that way,” Kenny pointed out. “In any case, if
she feels you’re a threat to her relationship, it does actually
give her a motive to come after you.”

Laurel’s lips twitched
as she fought the urge to smile. She had long ago given up on
handing out romantic advice to her headstrong cousin, knowing only
too well that Lacey enjoyed the chase. “Ah, that puts me in mind of
William Congreve’s infamous and often misquoted line
from
The Mourning
Bride
. How does it go?
‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred
turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.’
Perhaps she’s decided to take matters into her
own hands, dear.”

“But it’s not a reason
to go after Jenny or Bur,” the subject of the conversation
countered, “or to blow up the Four Acorns Inn.”

Kenny shrugged, his
brow furrowed. “That’s true.”

“Is the land valuable?”
Thaddeus wanted to know. “Or is there historical significance to
the home itself?”

“It’s been in our
family for three generations,” my mother told him. “My parents
built it, I grew up here, and now it belongs to my
children.”

“Maybe someone wants
you to sell it,” he suggested. “The architecture is fabulous and
the house is obviously in very good shape for its age. I assume the
grounds are extensive, backing to acres and acres of conservation
land. With such a lovely setting, I should think it would appeal to
a buyer who has lots of money to spend and a great affection for
Victorian charm.”

“But why not just ask
us?” I wanted to know. “If someone has the bucks and the price was
right, we’d certainly entertain the idea. Given the current state
of the economy, we’d be stupid to turn down a reasonable
offer.”

“Wouldn’t it make more
sense for someone to make an offer for Wallace’s place?” Laurel
interjected.

“What’s Wallace’s
place?” the doctor inquired.

“It’s Lacey’s brown
Victorian just up the street.”

“You have a mansion
too?”

“I do,” Lacey replied.
Dr. Van Zandt was treated to the story of how two brothers joined
the Four Oaks Pressboard Company and eventually built homes close
to each other. “I’m thinking of terminating my tenant’s lease at
the moment. I don’t care for the way she does business. There are
so many comings and goings at all hours of the day and night, the
neighbors are complaining.”

“Have you considered
that you might not be the only victims of this unpleasantness?”
Thaddeus suggested amiably. “Perhaps someone is out to ruin her,
too. I wonder if other people in the neighborhood are on the
receiving end of these nasty games.”

Chapter Thirteen --

“Anything’s possible.”
Captain Peacock gave a non-committal shrug. He seemed less than
enthusiastic about embracing the premise that Karin was innocent.
“We’ll follow the leads and see where they take
us.”

“I’ll make some phone
calls later tonight. Maybe Willow and Myrtle have picked up
something on the grapevine,” I decided.

“Hold on, Scarlet.”
Kenny urged caution. “Why open a new can of worms when we haven’t
dealt with the one already plaguing us? I think we should go slowly
on this. We don’t want to unnecessarily alarm anyone, or even show
our hand. Whoever is behind this certainly seems to pay close
attention to the comings and goings of the Four Acorns Inn. That’s
our immediate concern. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch the hired thugs
in the act and we’ll be able to get some answers.”

“You’re asking me not
to make the phone call?”

“I am asking you to let
Mercer Security deal with this. Max and I have resources you don’t
have,” he reminded me firmly. I was about to protest, but then I
remembered there was a wedding to pull together in the next few
days. I had more than enough to do without taking on this mystery.
With a shrug, I let it go.

“On that note, I shall
take my leave of you. My oven beckons,” I told the group, bowing
theatrically. “When the Rivera ladies arrive, ask Larry to join us
for dinner. Tell her I’m making seafood lasagna
tonight.”

“Perfect choice for a
harrowing day,” Lacey smiled. The exhaustion etched on her face
made her look her age for a change. “It’s gourmet comfort
food.”

“What about Max and his
aunt?” my mother inquired. “When are they coming?”

“He’s gone up to Boston
to fetch her. They’ll be here after dinner.”

I left them to their
conversation and got busy in the kitchen. Scrub Oak wandered in for
a drink of water. Passing up the kitty corner, he lapped up his
fill from the dog bowl and then rubbed up against the back of my
legs, hoping I would notice him. I reached down, scratched him
under the chin, and pulled out a baking pan. It was time to make a
batch of cookies for the guest cookie jar we keep in the butler’s
pantry.

Jenny showed up fifteen
minutes later, ready to set the dinner table. I gave her the guest
count.

“Is Max staying with us
or just dropping off his aunt?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. We’ll
have to ask Captain Peacock.” I was busy piling baby spinach into
cut glass bowls.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” I glanced up at
her.

“Can I ask you
something, Miz Scarlet?”

“You
can.”

“Is there any way to
make sure those guys don’t come back?”

“You’re worried they
might, Jen?” I sliced some white button mushrooms and arranged them
on top while I waited for her to answer. She didn’t. Wrapping up
the remaining spinach and mushrooms, I returned them to the crisper
drawer of the refrigerator before I pulled out a plastic container
of gorgonzola and crumbled some of the cheese over the salads. When
the silence continued, I turned in her direction, my concerned gaze
taking in the details as I studied her face closely. Those normally
bright eyes now wore a guarded look; her lips were drawn tight, as
if she was fighting the inclination to cry. “Talk to me,
sweetie.”

“I don’t think I can
take any more of this.”

“You’re that afraid?” I
half-expected her to ask me to check under the bed and in the
closet for things that go bump in the night.

“Yes,” she
conceded.

Poor Jenny. When I
first spied that terrified runaway along Barnegat Lane in Bay Head;
hands bloodied, dog missing, she was being chased by a
knife-wielding assailant. She was so vulnerable, so alone and
friendless, I had no choice but to rescue her. In a year’s time,
she had come so far; this crisis threatened to upend her life once
again.