Murdering the Roses (A Heavenly Highland Inn Cozy Mystery) (3 page)

"Enough," she said sharply. "You're both trying my patience. Now break it up. I don't want to see the two of you anywhere near each other anymore, understand?"

Both men nodded reluctantly and Bob stepped out through the kitchen door and into the garden that backed up to the staff's quarters behind the inn. It was a simple building but still very beautiful and gave the staff plenty of room to live in.

"Henry, are you okay?"
Vicky asked as she looked over at the man. He was a bit older than Bob, in his forties, and he had a great reputation for being an amazing chef. So far Vicky had never heard a single complaint about his food. She didn't want to lose him over a bad gardener.

"Yes I'm fine," Henry sighed and turned back to the pot of sauce he had been stirring. "But
you really shouldn't let riff raff like that work here, it brings down the morale!"

Vicky
frowned as she was once again reminded that it was her mistake in the first place that had brought Bob on as a member of staff. She spent the rest of the day finishing the final preparations for the wedding coming up on the weekend, and listing over and over in her mind just why she needed to fire Bob. It amazed her that he could be so different from his mother, who had been a kind and warm person who always made an effort to be there for those she knew. That was why she had tried to help Bob out.

When she finished with all she could do
that day for the wedding she went off in search of Sarah. They always said goodbye to each other each night before Sarah would head home to the house she shared with her husband and two sons. The boys would sometimes come to the inn to play. When they did it reminded Vicky so much of growing up together with Sarah in the inn. It could really be a fun and interesting place to spend your childhood. As she walked up the stairs to the second floor in search of her sister she noticed Timothy standing in the hallway. He didn't seem to be heading in any particular direction, he was just wandering.

“Hello there,”
Vicky smiled at him in a friendly manner. “Is there anything I can help you with?'

When his eyes settled on
Vicky there was nothing friendly about them. In fact they were extremely cold to the point that it made Vicky's skin crawl.

“No thanks, just checking the place out,” he finally said, his tone as cold as his eyes.

“All right, well if you need anything at all please feel free to ask,” she smiled again, hoping to gain some kind of warmth in response from him. But he only nodded and continued to walk past her. Vicky turned and watched him walk away, still feeling a little puzzled about his behavior. Didn't he have anything better to do than wander around the inn?

Vicky
found Sarah speaking to one of the maids at the end of the second floor.

“I just want to make sure that all the rooms are prepared for our guests this
weekend, so if we need to give the week night maids some overtime to get that done, then just let me know,” Sarah was explaining to Martha. Martha was white-haired and in her seventies. She was in charge of the maids and had just about as much say about what happened in the inn as Vicky and Sarah did. She wasn't an owner, but she had been there longer than the two of them had been alive, so they gave her respect where respect was due.

“I think the day staff should be able to handle it,”
Martha said thoughtfully. “But I'll let you know.”

“Thanks
Martha,” Sarah said with a smile. Vicky smiled at her too as she walked up behind Sarah.

“Just wanted to say goodnight,” she said to her sister as she paused beside her.

“I can't believe how fast the day has gone by,” Sarah shook her head and glanced at her watch. “Guess it is wedding season!”

“It sure is,”
Vicky sighed with a laugh. Wedding season was solidly booked with guests, weddings, parties and receptions. It was their busiest time of year. “Get home safe, okay?” Vicky gave her sister a quick hug.

“Do you want to come for dinner?”
Sarah suggested. Vicky considered the idea of being splattered with spinach by Rory, the two year old with fantastic aim, and then shook her head slightly.

“Not tonight, I need to do a little extra work on the wedding,” she mumbled. She loved her nephews dearly but did not relish the idea of sharing the dinner table with them
tonight.

***

That night as she settled into her apartment on the first floor of the inn, she considered Sarah and Henry's words regarding firing Bob. She knew that they were both right. Bob wasn't contributing anything positive to the inn, in fact she spent more time cleaning up after the mistakes he made. The decision had to be made, and she would have to fire him. But how?

She lay awake that night, thinking of just how to tell Bob that he would have to find a new job. She didn't like the idea of having to do it, but she knew that it was her responsibility. It was at times like that, when she had so much on her mind, that she did kind of wish she had someone in her life that she could turn to. She was sure Mitchell wo
uld understand her conflict, since working as a deputy sheriff was not exactly a glorious career. But he had not called her. That caused her to run through the date for the thousandth time in her mind. She just couldn't place where things might have gone sour. She had thought they enjoyed each other’s company. Having said that, she had not called him either. That was one of those relationship games that she couldn't grasp the concept of. Who was supposed to call who?

Vicky
sighed and nestled her head deeper into her pillow. She thought of her parents and how their lives had been cut short so suddenly. She didn't want the same to happen to her, before she even had the chance to truly live. Aunt Ida had become very eccentric after Vicky's parents’ death, and one late evening when just she and Vicky were still awake sharing memories, she admitted that it was because she wanted to live her life to the fullest. She no longer wanted to let her fears or hesitations limit her. After all, no one ever knew how much time they would have left.

At some point during the night
Vicky must have fallen asleep, because she woke up to sunlight pouring in through her window. Her apartment which was in its own section of the inn faced the back gardens, and it was always a beautiful sight to see first thing in the morning. She awoke with the certainty of what she had to do. There was no putting it off any longer. She would have to find a replacement for Bob, but even before she did the gardens would be better off if they had no gardener at all than to have Bob poisoning all of the plants by over watering them or clipping the wrong things. She showered and dressed in a simple business suit, then paused in front of the mirror and looked herself straight in the eye.

"You can do this," she said to herself with forced confidence. "You are a professional, and Bob is not living up to his promise to do a good job. Firing someone does not make you a bad person,"
Vicky nodded at her own reflection as if she agreed. Then she marched down the hall to the door that led out to the back gardens. First she went to the staff quarters, fully expecting that Bob would still be sleeping. But he did not answer the door. She knocked a few more times before deciding he really wasn't there. Then she began wandering through the gardens on the off chance that he might actually be working. She saw his handiwork all right, from beheaded flowers to trampled grass. She was sure he had no idea how to actually be a gardener, yet another thing that he had lied to her about.

As she walked through one of the largest gardens which featured
a beautiful rose garden, she caught her foot on something. As she stumbled she first assumed it might be a root or a stone. But when she looked down it was not a root or a stone. It was a shoe. Her gaze followed the shoe right up a pant leg, and across a plaid shirt, to the face of the man that she had intended to fire that very morning. It looked as if she would not be dealing with that problem after all, but something much worse.

When the blood curdling scream carried through the air,
Vicky thought at first that Aunt Ida must have found another spider, until she realized that it was pouring from her own lips. Bob was dead, that much was clear, and it had been no accident, that was very obvious by the splashed blood which was clinging to roses, leaves and flower blossoms. Sarah and Aunt Ida came rushing out of the inn when they heard the scream. When they ran up to her, Vicky was still screaming and didn't even realize it, she was in such shock. Aunt Ida wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close, turning her head away from the gruesome discovery.

“Don't look at it, don't look,” Aunt Ida insisted as she rocked her niece slightly in her arms.
Sarah whipped out her cell phone with trembling hands and began dialing the police.

"Is that Bob?" she asked anxiously. “How did this happen?”

"Yes," Vicky managed to choke out. “I don't know! I just found him like this!”

"Did you see anyone running away?"
Sarah asked, her eyes flicking around the garden in search of anyone that might be responsible for the crime. They could all be in danger if the killer was still around.

"No,"
Vicky wept as she leaned heavily on her Aunt's shoulder. "I just found him like this. I came looking for him to fire him, and then I found him like this," her shoulders trembled as another sob ran through her. She had never found someone in that condition before, and it was very disturbing to think that she had a conversation with him just the day before.

"Get inside,"
Sarah said sternly as she waited for the police to come on the line. "We need to lock the doors and make sure all the guests are secure. Whoever did this might still be on the property!"

Vicky
gasped as she had never thought of that. She and Aunt Ida hurried into the inn with Sarah following right behind them. She gave the information to the police over the phone while the three of them went door to door in the inn making sure all of the exterior doors were locked. Within just a few minutes they heard sirens charging up the long, winding driveway that led to the inn. The police station was situated between the inn and downtown, so they did not have far to go. When they saw the flashing lights the sisters felt it was safe enough to step outside.

Sarah
and Vicky stood on the front porch of the inn and watched as the officers piled out of their cars and began scouring the property. Some even had their guns drawn. It was a very strange sight to see in such a beautiful setting. The garden where Bob's body was found was quickly roped off with bright yellow police tape. The guests at the inn began asking lots of questions about what was happening as they gathered in the lobby, drawn by the flashing lights of the police cruisers.

Luckily there weren't too many guests at the
inn as it was the middle of the week, but they would be packed full by the time the weekend arrived. Timothy, the man who Sarah had checked in the day before, walked right through the lobby area and out onto the porch. He paused beside the two women and narrowed his eyes as he looked over at the police. Vicky braced herself for the questions that he might ask, but he only offered a mild shrug. Then without a word he continued down the steps and to his car.

Deputy Sheriff Mitchell Slate came jogging up to the porch, his eyes wide with concern as he looked from
Vicky to Sarah and then back again.

"I'm so sorry for your trouble," he said politely as he removed his hat in a courteous if not archaic display of manners. "Are you two ladies a
ll right?"

"Yes, just shaken up,"
Sarah replied nervously, her voice more shrill than normal. She still had an arm wrapped around Vicky's shoulders, though Vicky had begun to regain her composure.

"There are
a few questions I need to ask you,” he explained apologetically. “Who found the body?" Mitchell asked, trying to keep his voice professional yet still compassionate. He was a very handsome man who had been transferred from the deep south. He still called women ma'am and had a way of gazing at people with such deep respect that it was just a shade boyish. Vicky found it to be very endearing, especially when paired with the fierce blue of his eyes. He had strong features with a square jawline and a prominent, sloped nose. His sandy brown hair was mussed by his hat, and splayed across his forehead in many different directions.

"I did,"
Vicky said hesitantly, she hated to think of it.

"Oh," Mitchell pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. He began to scribble notes down in it. "And how did you happen to find it?" he asked without looking up at her.

"I was looking for Bob, he's our gardener," Vicky explained haltingly, her heart pounding. Mitchell glanced up at her furtively and then back at the notepad he was holding.

"Were the two of you
supposed to meet?" he asked, his voice even and solely professional now.

"No,"
Vicky shook her head slightly. "I had something I needed to tell him,” she said hesitantly. She really didn't want to admit that she was about to fire the poor man.

"Were you lovers?" Mitchell asked abruptly, causing
Vicky to gasp slightly in disgust.

"No
, of course not," she shook her head dismissively. "I was looking for him to fire him."