Worst Laid Plans (A Maddox Storm Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

I slapped her arm with the back of my hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Until you’d seen him in the now with your own eyes?” she scoffed. “Yeah, that would have gone well. You would have jumped into your glow bug and chased up here to save me from myself.”

“She doesn’t glow,” I defended my beautiful little Beetle. “And you’re wrong, I would have chased up here to save Jack.”

I had nothing against scrawny stick guys, but Jenna would have gobbled the old Jack up for breakfast and regurgitated him before lunch.

Jenna laughed. “I’m not nearly as heartless as you seem to think.”

“Not heartless, just a little careless when it comes to men.”

“So?” She fluttered thick, long lashes at me. “What’s the verdict? What do you think of Jack?”

Before I could reply that I was in no position to offer verdicts on other people’s relationships, Mr Hollow pushed a mug toward me.

“Thanks.” I reached to take it.

He didn’t let go. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

I looked down at the fingers I was attempting to wrap around the mug. Damn, I’d forgotten about that. At least my teeth were no longer chattering.

“Yeah, it’s turned frigid, hasn’t it?” I said. “What’s up with this arctic weather? Yesterday it was summer.”

Jenna’s eyes narrowed on my hand. “It’s not that cold.”

“She’s in shock,” Mr Hollow declared.

I clasped my hands behind my back. “I told you, I’m fine, just cold.”

They both ignored me.

Jenna eyed the built-in bar on the far side of the room.

Mr Hollow noticed and nodded, agreeing to some secret pact as he entrusted my mug of coffee into Jenna’s keeping.

“Come on.” Jenna hooked an arm in mine. “Let’s get you a sniff of brandy.”

I unclasped my hands to grab a chocolate chip cookie before letting her drag me off reluctantly to the bar. “I don’t like brandy.”

“A figure of speech, Maddie Mads.” She wrinkled her nose at me. “Horrible stuff.”

We scooted behind the bar. Jenna grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the top shelf and slid down the cabinet to sit her butt on the hardwood floor.

I glanced around the lounge. Burns was still napping. Mr Hollow had settled into one of the couches. Jack was out of sight, guarding the front parlor against…well, whatever he was guarding it against.

I sighed and sank down opposite Jenna, resting my back against the supporting panel of the counter. The strip behind the bar was narrow. Our knees were tucked up to our chins and we were close enough to knock foreheads.

Jenna passed the mug to me, freeing her hands to unscrew the bottle and spike my coffee with a lot more than a sniff. I didn’t protest, I was too busy munching on chocolate chip.

“Drink up.” Jenna tapped the bottle against my mug, then put it to her lips.

I raised a brow.

She shrugged. “I’m also in shock. I just heard my best friend bought out Hollow House and never breathed a word of it to me.”

“You heard wrong,” I told her. “I invested in the inn, but that excludes any ownership of the land or any fixed assets.”

The fine print of the contract made that crystal clear.

∞∞∞

Two shots of whiskey later, one spiked with coffee, one neat, I’d told Jenna the whole morbid story.

“I get why you’d want to stick it to the asshat,” Jenna said after she’d cursed Joseph McMurphy from here to Iceland, “but this…?”

She swung her arms out, banging the half-empty bottle against the cabinet at her back. “If you wanted to burn his money, you should have splashed out on a round-the-world funfest. Hell, you could have invited me along.”

I laughed. “Sounds like fun, but I didn’t want to burn his money.”

“You could have fooled me,” Jenna said. “This place isn’t a sinking ship, Maddie, it sank years ago and it’s been languishing on the ocean floor ever since.”

“Joe will get his money back. As soon as he discovers what I’ve done, he’ll find another investor to buy out our shares. All I wanted was free board, beverages on the house, a place to sit it out until the divorce goes through while Joe gets a big fat headache.”

I raised my mug to Jenna, cheers, and drained the last few drops of my free beverage. “If he hoped I’d slink quietly into the night, he never knew me at all.”

Jenna wasn’t convinced. “You know what they say about the best laid plans.”

“Nothing was laid.”

“Oh, someone was definitely—” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Did I just say that? I’m such an idiot.”

I waved her gaff aside. “And there was no devious plan. It was just an idea that popped into my head.”

Jenna still didn’t look convinced, but it was the truth.

After running the full eight blocks home from the theater, I’d locked myself in the spare room. Right through the night and into the next day. Butt on the carpet, arms hugging my knees, back propped up against the bed, staring dry-eyed and numb-brained at the wall.

The world fell away from me.

Thinking hurt too much.

Nothing made sense.

I’d heard Joe pounding on the door, begging, cursing, threatening to call 911, begging some more, but it all wafted past me like a putrid smell I didn’t dare breathe in.

And then I’d remembered my mom saying something about Mr Hollow and the brokerage firm in Syracuse and I’d had a thought. And it didn’t hurt. It made perfect sense. It gave me focus.

Sure, I’d been dehydrated and malnourished at the time, but look at Moses. He’d gone off into the desert and fasted for forty days and nights for clarity.

“Ladies…”

My head snapped back, eyes turned up.

A smoky gray gaze pierced me, then moved on to Jenna. “Which one of you is Maddox Storm?”

I scrambled to my feet and instantly teetered to the side. I wasn’t a lightweight and I wasn’t drunk, but Jack Daniels before breakfast was breaking new ground for me.

I slammed a palm to the bar counter to steady myself and glared up at smoky eyes.

There was more to the man, of course. Crop of tangled brown hair, chiseled jaw that needed a shave, dark jacket that spanned broad shoulders, immaculate white shirt and blue silk tie, that kind of thing. But I wasn’t in the mood to notice.

“Who’s asking?” I demanded.

“Detective Bishop,” he said curtly. He flashed a badge at me, then returned it to the inside pocket of his jacket. “Auburn Detective Division.”

“Where’s Chief Matthews?”

“Hawaii,” Jenna said, sliding into place beside me. “It’s his granddaughter’s christening next weekend and he decided to combine it with his annual leave.”

The detective cleared his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind answering some questions, Ms Storm? Mr Hollow has turned the library over to us for interviews.”

Jenna’s arm came around me. “I’ll go with you.”

His jaw tightened as he set those smoky grays on her. “Private interviews.”

“That’s not a problem,” Jenna informed him. “Maddie and I don’t keep any secrets from each other.”

“And you are?”

“Jenna,” she said. “Jenna Adams.”

“I’ll have questions for you, Ms Adams, once I’m done with Ms Storm.”

“Or you could just interview us together,” Jenna persisted. “Twice the gain for half the pain.”

Detective Bishop stood back and looked at me again. “If you don’t want to be alone with me, Ms Storm, I can arrange for a uniform to sit in on the interview.”

Heat flared to my cheeks. “I don’t need a chaperone, Detective Bishop.”

His brow arched. “Are you sure?”

“Quite,” I said prissily and slipped free from Jenna’s arm to follow him.

The library was a small den that opened off the lounge beneath the south wing. The walls were paneled walnut and the furniture was bulky leather; even the desk in front of the tall drop windows had a leather inset. One full wall supported a floor-to-ceiling shelving system crammed with everything from
World War I Heroes
to
Modern Techniques in Agriculture
to
Pride and Prejudice
to Lee Child’s latest thriller.

“Ms Storm?”

I turned from the bookshelf to see the detective already seated behind the desk, a legal pad flipped open before him, a silver pen in hand.

He indicated at the enormous leather armchair that had obviously been dragged from the fireplace to the other side of the desk. It was big enough for two of me and divinely comfortable. I sank deep into the padded cushion and tucked my legs in, elbow on the armrest, head tilted, cheek cupped in my palm, one hundred percent relaxed and toasty warm.

Detective Bishop’s eyes skimmed over me, then settled into mine. “You were the first person on the scene?”

“May I ask a question?” I said, wondering how old he was. Late twenties? Early thirties? Not that I was looking, but I noticed that his ring finger was bare.

He tapped the pad with the point of his pen. “Please, do.”

“You’re very polite for a detective.”

“Are you acquainted with many detectives?”

I shrugged. “Only from TV shows.”

“Ah…” He glanced down at his pad, back to me. “Right, so, you were the first—”

“I haven’t asked my question yet,” I said.

He placed the pen down and sat back in his hardback chair, giving me a look that spoke of endless patience.

“Is Ms Daggon’s death being treated as suspicious?”

His demeanor sharpened. “What makes you say that?”

I sat up straighter to show him I meant business. I was tipsy mellow, not incompetent. “They brought you in from Auburn.”

“Your chief is out of action and Officer …” His eyes dropped to the notepad. “Officer Spinner called us for an assist.”

“Guess that would explain it,” I murmured, breathing a sigh of relief. “Jack’s new on the job and, um…” I trailed off, deciding not to mention Deputy Harvey’s predisposition to get flustered. He was nearing retirement age and I didn’t want to make him look bad.

Detective Bishop picked up his pen. “You know Officer Spinner?”

“We went to school together.”

“Old friends?”

“Not friends, exactly, although I suppose that will change now that he’s dating Jenna,” I told him, then explained, “She’s my best friend.”

“U-huh.” He scribbled on his pad.

“What are you doing? Don’t write that down.” I pushed up onto my knees and leaned in, but couldn’t make out a word from the upside down, messy scrawl. “It’s not against the law to date an officer, is it?”

“Nothing to worry about except my poor memory.” His smile started off slow and hitched one corner of his mouth.

A smile that had no doubt melted its share of hearts throughout the county.

“Jotting notes helps me keep it all together in my head,” he added. “Now, this Jenna, would she be the Jenna Adams out there?” He tipped his pen toward the door.

“Yes.” I sank lower in the chair and relaxed. “And sorry about the fuss earlier, she’s somewhat…”

“Over-protective?” he offered.

I nodded. “She’d literally kill for me.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say to a cop. But he didn’t write anything down, just continued smiling and asked me to walk him through the events of this morning.

I started at the very beginning, drawing helpful conclusions where I could, things the detective would never be able to figure out without me. Such as the short interval between the alarm going off and Mr Hollow’s arrival.

“Mr Hollow must have heard my scream when I first stepped into the kitchen,” I told the detective. “That probably woke him and thank goodness there was…”
a real emergency?
I bit my tongue. “Um, well, I felt a bit silly, actually, screaming like that.”

The detective waited a beat, then said, “It must have been a shock—”

“It was,” I agreed emphatically.

“—to find a dead body in your kitchen,” he finished.

“Oh, I didn’t know Ms Daggon was dead at that point.”

His brow knitted, his pen tap-tap-tapping on the pad as he looked at me.

“Ms Daggon wasn’t a pleasant woman,” I clarified. “I was horrified to discover Mr Hollow had employed her. I can’t imagine why, it makes no sense, and why would she leave Silver Firs High? She was the Home Ed teacher and the town council have been trying to get her removed for years, but she clung to that job like a mother bear.”

With a lot of help from Principal Limly. Now there was a pair of unlikely friends. Mr Limly seemed so normal, so nice, but those two were thick as thieves and he always had her back.

“Ms Daggon enjoyed her work?” Detective Bishop said.

“A fresh batch of sophomores to torment each year?” I sniffed. “She loved it!”

“You didn’t like her very much.” A statement, and he was scribbling again even though his eyes were on me.