Mission Inn-possible 01 - Vanilla Vendetta

by Rosie A. Point

  “No, dear, not at all.”

  “I was just having one of my early morning walks. I hope I didn't disturb anyone?” Harley asked, tucking her key to the inn’s front doors into a pocket on her skirt.

  “No, you didn't. But feel free to rest in the library, I can have my new helper here bring over some tea? Hot chocolate?”

  “That would be awesome,” Harley said, her gaze switching over to me. Those eyes were strange. There was too much white around her irises.

  You're just being paranoid. You need to stop.

  But paranoia had kept me alive thus far.

  “Say hello, Charlotte,” Gamma said, gesturing to Harley. “This is one of our guests. She's staying in room 2B.”

  “Hello,” I said, making my voice soft-spoken. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I'm great, thanks. Invigorated from the walk,” she said. “Texas is beautiful at night. Anyway. I'll be in the library.”

  “Sherlock again?” Gamma called.

  “You betcha,” Harley replied, and slipped off into one of the rooms off the main entry hall.

  “Is that normal?” I asked. “For her to be up so early?”

  Gamma gave me an appraising look. “Not everyone's a spy, dear. Or a danger to society. Some people just like to go for walks. Now, let's talk about your cleaning duties.”

  “I can hardly wait,” I breathed.

  Hopefully, the cleaning would help me relax. And to face facts.

  I was trapped in the small town of Gossip until further notice. I'd have to get used to cozy and quaint. But that didn't mean I had to let my guard down.

  3

  “Great job, Charlotte! You're a natural.” Lauren Harris, the chef at the Gossip Inn, was a bubbly woman who wore her red hair in pigtails and was ever-so-slightly overweight. She'd swept me into a hug the minute we'd met and had set me to work learning how to bake the inn's signature vanilla cupcakes.

  “I don't know,” I said, as I frosted another cupcake and set it on a plate. “They look a bit flat, don't they?”

  “They're great,” Lauren replied, enthusiastically. “The guests will love them. Ooh! Speaking of which, I'd better check on the eggs.”

  While I'd been fixating on the cupcakes—there was a thought I'd never had before—Lauren had been flitting from the stove to the oven to the fridge to the counters, concocting all kinds of delicious breakfast treats.

  She'd made bacon soufflé cups and fried green tomatoes, fried pickles with ranch dressing, and fresh-baked bread. There were rashers of sizzling bacon, sausages, and hash browns.

  My mouth watered at the smells, but I hadn't eaten a bite yet. Gamma had told me we could eat after the guests had finished. It was easier that way—the dishes could be loaded into the washer at the same time.

  “All right,” I said, dusting off my hands onto my apron. “What's next?” The cupcakes weren't perfect, but darn it, I'd done a good job if I did say so myself. How was it possible that cupcakes could bring me so much pride? The last time I'd been this happy, I'd successfully captured a drug dealer off the coast of Cuba.

  Baking was surprisingly satisfying.

  Before Lauren had the chance to answer my question, the swinging doors that led into the dining area opened, and Gamma made her appearance. Cocoa Puff the cat didn't. He was banned from the kitchen but had meowed outside the doors intermittently for the last two hours.

  “How are we doing this morning, ladies?”

  “Perfectly. Your new helper is fitting in great!” Lauren's enthusiasm brought a glowing smile to my lips.

  I couldn't help it. Have I lost my mind? Why am I so happy about being complimented? Did someone slip something into my water?

  “That's great,” Gamma said. “Charlotte, it's time for you to meet the guests before breakfast.”

  “I have to meet them? Like, talk to them?”

  “Of course,” Gamma said. “We like to run this inn like it's a home. For family. Everyone in town knows each other here. Isn't that right, Lauren?”

  “Absolutely.” Lauren lifted a spoon out of a saucepan and tasted it. “Hmm, needs more salt. Don't worry, Charlie. I know that meeting a lot of people at once can be intimidating, but the guests are great. Mostly.”

  “Mostly?” I asked as Gamma guided me out of the doors.

  “Pete complained about her cooking yesterday morning,” she whispered. “That's a massive personal insult in Lauren's books.”

  I barely had time to nod. We'd already arrived in the dining area. Guests were seated at their tables.

  “Good morning everyone,” Gamma called. “I'd like to introduce you all to my newest helper, Charlotte Jean Smith. She's going to be serving your breakfasts and cleaning your rooms. Please be patient with her while she learns the ropes.”

  I lifted my hand. “Hello.”

  “Go around and greet everyone,” Gamma hissed. “Try not to act like an agent.”

  That would be difficult. Apparently, my persona was a people-pleaser, but I had never been. Never mind, I'd been undercover enough times before. I was practiced at this. I'd already memorized my entire file.

  I approached the first of the tables where a woman with mousy brown hair and a wan face sat across from a guy with silver hair and eyes as deep and blue as the ocean. “Hello,” I said. “I'm introducing myself.”

  “We can see that,” the man said, sharply.

  “I'm Peggy,” the woman said. “You'll have to excuse Pete. He's all business this morning.”

  “Pete Ball,” he said, and shook my hand firmly. “Nice to meet ya. I'll have a coffee when you're done chatting to everyone.”

  Peggy shot me an apologetic look as I moved on to the next table.

  Harley, the woman I'd met this morning, was seated across from a beautiful Latina woman with flowing black hair and expressive hazel eyes. “Good morning, Charlotte,” Harley said, “It's nice to see you again. I hope you're not too nervous about your first day. From what I've seen, Georgina is a wonderful owner and boss. She's been so lovely to all of us.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Yeah, she's great.”

  “You know, you kind of look like her a little bit.”

  I didn't have an answer for that, but it did send heat shooting through me. I'd have to dye my hair sooner rather than later. Maybe get Smulder to send me some colored contacts.

  “This is Bella Rodriguez, by the way,” Harley gestured to the beautiful woman. “We're in town for our high school reunion. Pretty exciting.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Bella said, nodding to me.

  I moved from table to table, greeting the other guests and forgetting most of their names. I hurried back to the kitchen after, a little exhausted after the early wake-up, the names and greetings and everything in between.

  “All right,” Lauren said, her eyes wild. “We're ready to serve. You take the cupcakes out first, Charlie.”

  I accepted the platter of adequately frosted cupcakes—hey, I was learning here—and hurried into the dining area. The atmosphere was peaceful, with its glossy wooden tables, the pale egg yolk yellow walls, and the creaky wooden floors. Flowers had been placed in the center of each table.

  I moved along the side of the room, my kitten heels clonking heavily—I wasn't used to shoes like these—and paused next to Peggy and Pete's table.

  “Cupcakes?” I asked.

  Peggy shook her head.

  Pete was on the phone, talking aggressively. “No, no, no, you don't understand, Lamb. I'm not going to back down on this. I don't care what type of offer he makes us. It's not happening. I want that land. I'm going to get that land. Do you understand me?”

  I hovered awkwardly. What was I supposed to do? Force a cupcake on him?

  “Cupcake?” I repeated, loudly.

  Pete snatched one off the tray and shoved it into his mouth, eating as aggressively as he'd spoken.

  Well, sheesh. I wasn't the most polite person in the world, but at least I ate with my mouth closed. Cupcake crumbs spray
ed everywhere and bits of my frosting clung to his lips.

  “Honey,” Peggy said. “Honey bunny, you're talking loud.”

  “Shut up, Peg.” He snapped, stuffing more food into his mouth. “Can't you see I'm busy ch—oo.”

  Choo? What's Choo?

  Pete made a choked noise in his throat. The cupcake dropped from his fingers and rolled across the boards.

  “Pete?” Peggy rose from her chair. “Pete? Help! Someone! I think he's choking. Pete!”

  The gray-haired rude guy had gone blue in the face, and his lips flapped, open and closed more crumbs dropping to the carpet.

  I came forward and pulled on his chin, bending low and peering into his throat. No obstructions. He wasn't choking.

  The commotion had drawn the attention of the other diners. A man yelled that he was a doctor and ran over. I stepped back and watched as he performed the Heimlich, but nothing came out. And Pete had gone from blue to a steely gray in pallor.

  “What's going on?” Gamma rushed out of the kitchen. “Pete?”

  The man went limp in the doctor's arms, staring at nothing. He was gone. Dead as a doornail.

  And it had happened right after he'd eaten one of my cupcakes.

  Apparently, my stay in Gossip wasn't going to be as idyllic and quiet as I'd hoped.

  4

  The chaos caused by the dead body had rippled through the Gossip Inn, even after the police had arrived and cordoned off the kitchen and the dining area. Needless to say, most everyone had lost their appetites. A good thing too because I had my suspicions about what had caused Pete’s death.

  The cupcake.

  Had it been poisoned? But how? I had made them with my own two hands, and the only time I hadn’t been in the kitchen was during a bathroom break. Had Lauren been alone in there? But no, she’d been gone too.

  Or had she?

  My gaze moved from one person in the living area to the next. We’d all been told to wait in here until the police were done with their preliminary findings.

  “Are you all right, Charlie?” Lauren asked, patting me on the arm. She hovered nervously on the edge of her puffy armchair. “What a terrible thing to have happen on your first day.”

  I nodded, trying to put up a sorrowful expression.

  I was used to harsh realities and dead bodies were part of that, unfortunately. Now, I couldn’t help wondering what had happened. And why? What if this was Kyle? What if he’d decided he’d taunt me before he came after me?

  Gamma entered the room and took a seat next to me. “Well, this is bad for business,” she said, as quietly as she could.

  The other guests were in varying states of shock and sadness. Peggy had already left the room to speak with the officers. Sunlight splashed across the chairs and illuminated the blackness of the flat-screen TV on the wall. The cheer of a summer’s day was almost mocking.

  “What did they say?” Lauren tugged on one of her rusty-colored pigtails.

  “That it’s definitely a murder,” Gamma whispered.

  Lauren gasped. I didn’t, then remembered that I probably should and sucked a breath in, as well.

  “What do you think happened?” Lauren asked. “How can it be murder if he was choking on a cupcake?”

  “He wasn’t choking,” I said. “There was nothing in his throat. No obstructions.” Gamma tapped me on the arm. “I mean, uh, there was no cupcake in his mouth. That I could see. Ha.” She tapped me again. “Ha—ppy July? Sorry, I’m stressed.” The ‘ha’ had been an awkward method of diverting away from my faux pas, but it had made it seem like I was laughing. Right after a murder had taken place.

  Lauren hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she was used to weirdness because of Gamma Georgina. We were cut from the same cloth.

  “What do you think that means?” Lauren asked, worrying the ends of her apron. She hadn’t taken it off after we’d been herded out into the living room.

  I had several ideas—first and foremost, poisoning, but saying that out loud would be callous.

  “We’ll have to wait and see what the detectives have to say,” Gamma said, sagely. “But this is bad news. A murder right in the inn? Good heavens, what will people think? And poor Pete. He was a nice enough man.”

  I withheld comment. I hadn’t known him long enough to form an opinion, but he’d seemed pretty rude this morning. Then again, that might’ve been because he’d had a bad start to the day. I’d forgotten his coffee.

  Shoot a man from miles away with a sniper rifle? Easy. Remember a coffee order while helping Lauren with her eggs and serving the cupcakes? Downright impossible. Everything about the Gossip Inn wasn’t in my skillset. I’d have to work hard to catch up if I wanted to keep my head down.

  The grand wooden doors to the living room opened, and a fit-looking police officer entered. He wore his hair short. Dark eyebrows were slashes above equally dark eyes, and he swept his gaze through the room, studying us one at a time.

  I held completely still, trying to look innocent. Even though I was innocent.

  “You there,” he said, pointing at me. “You’re the one who gave Mr. Ball the cupcake?”

  “That’s correct,” I replied.

  “Come with me.”

  “Why do you need her to come with you?” Gamma asked, placing a hand on my arm. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Ma’am, it’s a part of our investigation.” The cop beckoned.

  “It’s OK, Gam—uh, Georgina. I’m fine.” I got up to a chorus of whispers and followed the officer from the room, into the inn’s cozy hallway. We halted underneath the bronze chandelier, and Cocoa Puff the cat padded down the stairs and sat down next to my feet, directing his bright yellow eyes up at the detective.

  “Ma’am, my name is Detective Crowley,” he said, extending a hand. “Your name is…?”

  “I’m Charlotte Jean Smith,” I said, smoothly, and we shook. Cocoa Puff meowed. “This is Cocoa Puff.” I smiled, trying the harmless, I’m not a trained killer tactic.

  The detective, who was rather handsome, with a strong jawline and a sharp gaze, studied me, keenly. “I believe you’re the one who served Mr. Ball the cupcake this morning?” he asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Can you tell me what you saw?” The detective gestured to the chaise lounge against the wall, beneath a mirror, and I took a seat. He did too, placing distance between us. He uncapped a pen and brought a pad out of the top pocket of his smart blue uniform.

  I broke down exactly what had happened—from serving the cupcake to the apparent choking and then the collapse. I left out my assumption of poisoning. He didn’t need to know I had a keen eye or that I was interested.

  “And who baked the cupcakes?” the detective asked.

  “I did. I made the frosting too,” I replied. “My first try at baking. I’m not… well, shoot, there’s no way I put anything in the cupcakes if that’s what you’re saying.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Is that what you’re saying, detective?”

  “Was there any point during the, uh, baking process that you left the batter or frosting unattended?”

  “Yes. I headed off to the bathroom for a couple of minutes.”

  “And what time was this?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, about 8:35 am?”

  The detective paused. “That’s quite a specific time.”

  “I glanced at the clock above the kitchen doors before I left the room.”

  “I see.” The detective made another note. “Tell me, Miss Smith, did you notice anything strange around here this morning? Anything of note?”

  “I only started working here today,” I replied, as sweetly as I could. It tasted odd talking that way. “I’m not exactly qualified to tell you what’s strange or not. But I did notice one of the guests coming home at about 4 am when I’d just started my tour of the inn. Her name’s Harley.”

  He made a note of it then tapped the end of his pen against the side of the page. “So,” h
e said, “you mean to tell me that this is your first day of work. And on your first day of work, the first person you serve dies?”

  I blinked. “I didn’t think of it that way. Look, I know how this looks, but it wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even know the guy. I only met him this morning. Why would I have wanted to poison him?”

  “I didn’t tell you he was poisoned.”

  “The implication is there. You’re asking me about batter and frosting and when I was in the kitchen,” I said and released a sigh. This wasn’t good. This would definitely compromise my position at the inn, and like the Special Agent in Charge had said: if I messed up this chance, I’d have to go underground for real.

  “Leave the implications to me, Miss Smith,” he replied. “I’d like for you to stay in town until this investigation is resolved. We might need to talk again.” He removed a card from his pocket and handed it over. “If you can think of anything you might have seen or heard regarding the events of this morning, you give me a call, all right?”

  “I will.” I slipped the card into the pocket of my apron. The kitten-covered dress felt even more ridiculous now. How could this guy take me seriously in it? Shoot, not that I wanted him to take me seriously in any regard.

  I walked back into the living room and took a seat next to Gamma. Detective Crowley called Lauren out next.

  “What happened?” my grandmother asked.

  “I’m a person of interest,” I replied, quietly.

  Her blue eyes widened. “Well, that’s not ideal.”

  “That’s putting it lightly.” I ignored the curious looks from the guests and the whispers hidden behind hands. “Once they’re gone, I need to be excused. I’ve got to make a call.”

  “Take the time you need,” Gamma said. “And don’t worry about this, Charlie. The cops here are good at their jobs. They’ll find who did this.”

  But that only made me wonder who had done it. And why.

  THE POLICE HAD TAKEN hours to assess the crime scene and had closed off the kitchen and the dining area for what the detective had estimated to be ‘an evening at best.’ All that meant was everyone in the inn would have to go out for lunch and dinner later on.