Murder in the Mystery Suite (A Book Retreat Mystery) (3 page)

In that brief flash of time in which Jane had seen the man’s face, she’d instantly recognized him. Not him per se, but his familiar features.

She moved toward Run for Cover, her best friend’s bookshop, but kept her gaze locked on the two riders. It was impossible not to be riveted by the mad dash of the horses, and Jane could practically feel the thundering of their hooves reverberating all the way up her spine. The people of Storyton were frozen. They stood with eyes wide and hands clenched, completely absorbed by the drama. No one made a sound.

After a few breathless seconds, the mare seemed to be tiring. The gray was closing fast and his rider stretched out an arm, reaching for the bay’s reins. In two more heartbeats, he had them in his grasp and quickly forced the sweat-covered horse to slow to a trot and then, finally, mercifully, to a walk.

The onlookers cheered and applauded the nimble horseman. Jane put her fingers in her mouth and whistled with relief and admiration. She then hurried down the bookstore’s front path, her feet treading on the familiar word stones her friend Eloise had placed throughout the garden. The twins loved to hop from one word to another, making up nonsense poems or silly songs as they leapt. Jane was in too much of a rush to pay attention to where her feet landed. She stepped on “hope” and “dream” but absently skipped over “wish” and “believe” to pause on “imagine” before pushing the heavy door open.

Eloise was bent over a coffee-table book on the Appalachian Mountains. The woman standing beside her pointed to a photograph of a bald eagle and then gesticulated with both arms, her expression one of awe and delight. Jane assumed she was a guest at Storyton Hall and had just returned from a memorable nature hike. Eloise glanced up from the page and winked at Jane. It was her way of saying “Give me a minute. I need to close this sale.”

Jane wandered over to the cookbook section, where she was easily distracted by a collection of bound recipes from
The Storyton Sewing Circle
, 1951. She turned to the table of contents, intrigued by recipes like lemonade fried chicken, sardine and bacon rolls, Mexican corn sauté, and Pepsi-Cola Cake.

“Are you going to make the boys a rainbow Jell-O delight?” Eloise asked after her customer left with a bag in hand and a satisfied expression on her face.

Jane closed the book. “You didn’t tell me your brother was coming to town.”

Eloise looked stunned. “How did you—”

“He tore past me on the street a few seconds ago on a gray horse. He just rescued some woman on a runaway mare.”

“That’s Edwin for you. Full of surprises.” Eloise moved to the window. “Like the way he showed up at my house last night. No phone call, no e-mail, nothing. Just rings the doorbell at half past ten. He’s forgotten that we country folks don’t take well to unexpected guests. I had one hand on the knob and the other on my rifle.”

“I can’t believe I’m finally going to meet the mysterious Edwin Alcott,” Jane said in a dreamy voice, fluttering her lashes like a lovesick teen. “He’s become like a book character in my mind. A young Radcliffe Emerson or Dirk Pitt.”

“He’s a food writer, Jane. Check your Indiana Jones fantasies at the door,” Eloise said. “Seriously, don’t envision him as some dashing hero, even if he did rescue that woman. Edwin’s moody, self-centered, and secretive. He doesn’t have good manners, rarely bothers with pleasantries, refuses to participate in small talk, and always looks like he disapproves of whatever it is you’re doing. If he weren’t my brother and didn’t send me the most amazing gifts from the most amazing places, then I’d probably hate him.”

At that moment, Fitz and Hem burst into the shop, their cheeks flushed and their chests rising and falling rapidly.

“Mom!” Fitz rushed over to Jane. “Did you see those people on the horses?”

“I did,” she said. “Exciting, right? And a little scary too. Ms. Alcott’s brother was the rider on the gray horse. He saved the lady on the bay mare.”

The twins shot a curious glance at Eloise and then turned back to their mother. “He didn’t save her,” Hem said. “He tried, but he couldn’t.”

Both women stared at the little boy. Jane put a hand on his shoulder. “Catch your breath, Hem, and then tell us what you mean.”

Fitz didn’t wait for his brother to speak. “She slid right off the horse.
Plop!
” He pulled a blue and green hacky sack from his pocket and dropped it on the floor. “Like that. She didn’t move after she hit the ground either.” He gestured at the footbag he’d probably just purchased at Geppetto’s.

“It’s true,” Hem said in case the women doubted his twin. “Someone ran to get Doc Lydgate. He told the man who stopped her horse to carry her into his office.”

Nodding gravely, Fitz picked up his new toy and returned it to his pocket. “Your brother is really strong, Miss Alcott. He looked like Superman carrying Lois Lane.”

“The lady probably fainted,” Eloise said airily. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

The boys looked disappointed by the notion and immediately drifted over to the spinner rack of comic books and graphic novels.

However, the next customer through the door was quick to dispel Eloise’s theory. It was Mrs. Eugenia Pratt, the biggest gossip in Storyton. She was so puffed up with news that she looked like an overinflated balloon. Her round cheeks were flushed, and her beady eyes glimmered with delight.

“Oh, Eloise!” she exclaimed. “Did you hear?”

Eloise put on a patient smile. Mrs. Pratt was forever trying to set her up with every single man in Storyton. The older woman was also fond of cautioning Eloise about the hazards of becoming an old maid. Like Jane, Eloise was in her mid-thirties and resented being told that her beauty, charm, and the likelihood of her producing a brood of healthy children were swiftly diminishing. Still, Mrs. Pratt was a regular customer and a member of Jane’s book club. She faithfully purchased half a dozen romance novels each week, so Eloise did her best to be friendly to the cantankerous gossipmonger.

“About the asphalt steeplechase?” Jane asked.

“Yes.” Mrs. Pratt’s enthusiasm waned in the face of Jane’s reply, but then she brightened. “But do you know how it ended?”

Eloise shrugged, trying to appear disinterested. “Judging by what the twins said, the woman fainted and had to be carried into Doc Lydgate’s office.”

“Fainted?” Mrs. Pratt took out the Japanese fan she kept in her purse, opened it with a practiced flick of her wrist, and began to wave it in front of her face. “No, no, my dear. Well, she
might
have fainted at one point, but by the time your brother”—she stopped her narrative and cocked her head like an inquisitive bird—“Edwin, is it? He’s very handsome. Why hasn’t he visited before? And what brings him to our sleepy little village now? You two certainly look alike, but he got all the height while you got all that curly hair. I’d say there’s about three years separating you. Maybe four. Am I right?”

“The woman?” Jane prompted. “What happened to the woman?”

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Pratt’s eyes twinkled with relish before she hastily adopted an expression of woe. “Well . . .” She paused theatrically and lowered her fan. Casting a surreptitious glance at the twins, she leaned closer to Eloise and Jane and whispered, “Your brother carried her into Doc Lydgate’s office, but the good doctor couldn’t do her much for her, the poor thing. He’s a fine physician, but he’s not a miracle worker.”

Jane was confused. “He wasn’t able to wake her up?”

Mrs. Pratt shook her head. “No, dear, he wasn’t. After all, there’s no rousing the dead.”

“She’s dead?” Jane whispered. “Just like that?”

“It’s quite the mystery,” Mrs. Pratt confirmed. “After all, she was younger than both of you, and though she was clearly terrified when we saw her charging down the street, she didn’t look to be on the brink of death.” She paused, pulling at the loose skin under her chin as she often did when she was turning over a thought. “If her horse had pitched her into a wall or trampled her, then this would make more sense.”

Jane glanced at Hem and Fitz, who were too busy ogling the cover of the new Green Lantern comic book to eavesdrop, and took Mrs. Pratt by the elbow. “Perhaps we should move away from the door. We wouldn’t want to frighten any of Eloise’s customers.”

Pleased by the results of her macabre imagery, Mrs. Pratt continued to describe how the rider could have met with a violent ending. She didn’t resist when Jane, followed closely by Eloise, steered her deep into the stacks of the romance section. Instead, she grabbed several paperbacks and clutched them to her ample chest. Turning to Eloise, she said, “Your brother was magnificent.” She caressed the cover of a romantic suspense novel. “He was just like one of these heroes. Tall, dark, and handsome with an animal magnetism that crackles like lightning during a summer storm.” Mrs. Pratt was nearly panting. “The way he lifted that woman in his muscular arms and carried her into the doc’s office like she weighed no more than a throw pillow—strong as a bull, he was! It’s enough to make a woman swoon. Oh, my, my, my.”

Exchanging a nervous look with Eloise, Jane took a firmer hold of Mrs. Pratt’s elbow. “You’re not going to faint are you, Mrs. Pratt?”

“No, no, no. I’m quite all right,” the older woman said. “I’m simply not accustomed to this much excitement, that’s all. Not in real life anyway. These books provide me with the thrills I crave, but every once in a while I dream of a moment in which reality could mirror fiction. And this afternoon, it
did
.” Her gaze grew distant. “A wild ride through the center of town, people scrambling to get out of the way, a damsel in distress, a young stallion—I mean man—who happens to be the brother of our own Miss Alcott . . . This sort of thing doesn’t happen every day, my dear. I can’t help but be caught up by it all.”

“I only wish her story had had a different ending,” Jane said glumly. “The poor woman.”

“Indeed.” Mrs. Pratt didn’t appear very distressed by the rider’s fate. “I should dash. Can you ring me up, Eloise?” She gathered three more books and then hurried off to the checkout counter.

“She can’t wait to get next door and tell everyone what happened,” Eloise said. “I’d better see to her before she starts talking to the twins.”

Luckily, Fitz and Hem showed no interest in anything but the rack of comic books. “Do you have any money left?” Jane asked the boys.

“I do,” Hem boasted. “Fitz spent all of his at Geppetto’s.”

“Yeah, but we’re supposed to share the stuff we buy.” Fitz glared at his brother and then gave Jane a plaintive look. “Only I don’t want him to pick the Green Lantern. See this?” He pointed at a cover showing a group of masked characters poised for battle. “It has a whole bunch of superheroes. Hem’s only has one.”

Mrs. Pratt passed by in time to catch Fitz’s remark. “It only takes one hero to set an entire town aflutter, young sir. Just ask Edwin Alcott!”

The boys turned to Jane with inquisitive eyes, but she merely tapped the face of her watch and said, “We’ll barely make it home for supper at this point. Choose a comic book and meet me at the Pickled Pig.”

Jane turned to wave at Eloise, but her friend was busy with a customer, so she signaled once more for the twins to hurry up with their decision and headed outside. She’d just cleared the garden gate when a man barreled into her hard enough to drive the breath out of her lungs.

“Oh!” she cried, startled, and grabbed on to the gatepost to keep her balance. Her handbag fell to the ground and her change purse, which hadn’t been closing properly for several weeks, popped open and disgorged her coins into the grass.

“Do you live here or are you a tourist?” the man demanded while Jane was still trying to steady herself.

Scowling angrily, she glanced up, fully prepared to lecture the cad on his lack of courtesy. But when she looked into his eyes, she forgot all about the scolding. His dark gaze was so fierce, so incredibly intense, that she immediately answered, “I’m a local. I live—”

“Come to the doctor’s office,” he interrupted. “Someone needs to identify the body and I can’t.” He started off in the direction from which he’d come without waiting to see whether Jane was following.

“Hey!” Jane called, but he didn’t slow his pace. Annoyed, Jane shouted, “Edwin Alcott. You stop right there!”

He froze and swung around, his piercing stare fixed on her. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m your sister’s best friend,” Jane explained once she’d drawn alongside him. “You look alike. Even on horseback, I knew who you were.” She put her hands on her hips. “And though you clearly share DNA with Eloise, you lack her impeccable manners. I need to get my purse, which fell on the ground when you rammed into me like a jousting knight, and then I’m going to the food market. There’s no need to take me to the doc’s because I wouldn’t be able to help.”

Edwin raked his fingers through his thick hair, seemingly at a loss. “Are you squeamish? Because if you are—”

“I most certainly am not.” Jane was quick to dispel the notion. “I am mother to six-year-old twin boys. I’ve seen every manner of cut, burn, scrape, and bruise in addition to several cases of broken fingers and toes.” Edwin looked unconvinced, and Jane felt her irritation growing. She had an inkling that she was being manipulated, but she was unable to extricate herself. “Fine. Let’s go.
After
I get my purse.”

“Allow me.” He ran back to the gate, as nimble and fleet- footed as his horse, collected her bag, and returned it to her with an exaggerated flourish.

Jane almost pointed out that he’d failed to pick up her change purse but decided that would be churlish. Someone would turn it in to Eloise who’d recognize it as Jane’s and return it to her later. “Thank you,” Jane said.

If she’d expected Edwin to respond by apologizing for nearly knocking her over, she was to be disappointed. He walked away without speaking, and his stride was so swift that she had trouble keeping pace.

“Jane! Good, good, good,” Doc Lydgate said when she entered his office. “Would you come on through?”

Jane hesitated. She’d never seen a dead body, and despite her boast to Edwin, she was, just at that moment, feeling a little squeamish.

She darted a sidelong look at Eloise’s brother, and he raised his brows as if to question her resolve. “Of course,” she told the doctor firmly. “Though I doubt I can identify her.”

“You know everyone at the Hall and in the village by sight. If this woman was a guest at Storyton, I suspect you’ll recognize her.” Doc Lydgate led Jane into his examination room. He drew back the blue curtain obscuring a stainless steel table before Jane had a chance to prepare herself. Suddenly, she was staring down at a figure covered from feet to shoulders by a crisp, white sheet. Her first impression was that the woman was unnaturally still and had a face as pale as milk.

This is what death looks like up close
, Jane thought.

She took a step toward the table, inexplicably drawn to the lifeless stranger, and studied the blue tint of the woman’s lips, her high cheekbones, dimpled chin, and smooth brow. Then Jane’s gaze traveled over the length of honey blond hair, which cascaded off the side of the table and pooled onto the floor like a puddle of spun gold.

“Rapunzel,” Jane whispered inaudibly and then turned to the doctor. “Was her hair hanging loose? I don’t remember seeing so much hair when she was on horseback.”

“No,” Doc Lydgate replied. “It was fastened in a complex knot at the nape of her neck. I had to undo the arrangement in order to check her scalp for lacerations or signs of swelling. When I heard that she’d fallen from her horse, I assumed she’d been concussed.”

Jane couldn’t tear her gaze away from the woman’s face. The delicate curve of her brows, the soft bow of her upper lip, her unblemished skin. “She’s certainly not from around here, and I doubt she’s a guest at the resort either. Look at her, Doc. A woman like this couldn’t walk through a room without being noticed by everyone. It’d be like ignoring a shooting star.” She thought for a moment. “What about the mare? Where’d she come from?”

“She’s one of Sam’s,” Edwin said.

The doc was clearly taken aback. “A horse from Hilltop Stables ran wild through the center of town? Why’d she leave the mountain path? What spooked her?”

Edwin didn’t answer.

Jane scrutinized him closely. “You were on horseback too. Did you rent that gray from Sam?” She then gestured at the woman without turning to look at her lovely, but lifeless, features again. “Someone might be waiting for this woman at Hilltop as we speak. Did you see her on the trail? Sam never lets strangers ride on their own. He always serves as a guide to people he doesn’t know.”

“Sam doesn’t play nanny to me,” Edwin said blandly. “We went to school together and he knows I’m practically a centaur. So no, I wasn’t riding with the lady, but Sam must have her name. I should have thought of that earlier, but I figured if I just found someone to identify her, then I could . . .”

“Leave that person to deal with this?” Jane guessed and Edwin looked away. Whether he was angry or embarrassed, Jane couldn’t tell.

Doc Lydgate cleared his throat and held out his hand, indicating Jane should step away from the table. He drew the curtain closed, giving the dead woman privacy once more, but her image was imprinted in Jane’s mind. It was as if the barrier of blue cloth didn’t exist.

“Well, I’m glad you chose Jane to assist,” the doc told Edwin. “She’s got a sensible head on her shoulders and is perfectly capable of handling delicate situations. Even so, I think you should remount your horse and return to the stables. Get Sam to examine this woman’s paperwork. I’m going to call Sheriff Evans and have him drive up there.” He laid a hand on Edwin’s arm. “This woman has family somewhere and they should be notified as soon as possible. It’s the only kindness we can offer them now. That and the knowledge that the brother of one of our own showed true courage in trying to save her. Well done, sir.”

Little spots of color appeared on Edwin’s cheeks. “If only I’d caught hold of the reins sooner. Maybe she . . .” Without finishing his thought, he abruptly pivoted and strode from the room.

Speechless, Jane and the doctor stared after him.

“Interesting fellow.” Doc Lydgate collected a patient folder from the counter and cleared his throat officiously. “I believe the lady suffered from heart failure and, if that’s the case, there’s nothing Mr. Alcott could have done to prevent this woman’s demise. Of course, that’s only an opinion. Because we’re dealing with a patient who’s young and fit, it’s hard to determine what happened based on a preliminary examination.” Doc Lydgate seemed to have forgotten about Jane. Stroking the whiskers of his neat white beard, he murmured, “She needs to be taken to the coroner. I’ll have to call an ambulance to carry her over the mountain.” Releasing a heavy sigh, he seemed to suddenly remember that he wasn’t alone. “Ah, Jane. I’m sorry to have troubled you with this business. How are my favorite patients? It seems like ages since I’ve sutured one of them or administered a tetanus shot. At least three months by my calculations.”

“The boys are fine, thank you. Their summer injuries have been superficial thus far, though I’m not foolish enough to believe my luck will hold.” She smiled. “If there’s anything I can do for the woman or her family, please let me know.”

“Certainly. Thank you, Jane.” The doctor led her into the waiting room, where his receptionist, who also served as his nurse, was whispering excitedly into the phone. Pippa Pendleton had fiery red hair and a propensity for ignoring doctor-patient confidentiality. It was obvious to both Jane and Doc Lyndgate that Pippa had been busy discussing the dead woman with a girlfriend. Jane had known Pippa since she wore her vibrant hair in pigtail braids and was the village’s most notorious kleptomaniac. Years after Jane had moved away and married, Pippa had also left to attend nursing school where she cut off all her hair and had a leprechaun tattooed on her calf. She was also promptly fired from her first and only nursing job for breaking into a hospital vending machine.

“I really wanted a bag of chips,” Pippa complained to anyone who would listen upon her return to Storyton. “I forgot my purse. Honestly! And it was, like, a twelve-hour shift!” Somehow, she managed to convince Doc Lydgate to give her the job Nurse Collins had vacated when she ran off with Mrs. Simpkin’s husband.

Doc Lydgate was a good man and agreed to take Pippa on a trial basis. It was common knowledge that right after hiring her, he walked straight to the hardware store and bought a dozen padlocks.

Now, the doc stood directly in front of Pippa and coughed loudly into his hand. She glanced at him and, without the slightest hint of shame, told her friend she’d fill her in on all the juicy details at the pub and hung up the phone.

“Do you need a cough drop or some cold medicine?” she asked while unwrapping one of the lollipops set aside for the doctor’s pediatric patients.

Doc Lydgate frowned and gestured at the phone. “Please call an ambulance, Pippa. Tell them our patient has expired and needs to be transported to the coroner for a thorough examination as soon as possible.”

Pippa opened her mouth and shoved the candy inside her right cheek. “Expired?” she asked, her words a wet garble.

“Just repeat exactly what I said.” He reached forward and tapped on the lollipop stick. “This interferes with your pronunciation, so please refrain from eating while you’re on the phone. It’s no wonder my patients are showing up for appointments on the wrong day of the week.”

Glowering, Pippa removed the lollipop and dialed while Doc Lydgate disappeared into his office down the hall.

On her way out the door, Jane heard Pippa connect with the EMT operator. Glancing back at the rebellious redhead, Jane was unsurprised to see the young woman pause in the middle of her conversation and pop the candy into her mouth once more. She caught Jane staring, grinned, and gave a saucy wriggle of her fingers in farewell.