Gamma slipped her ring of keys from her pocket and jingled it. “You bet your pretty white bottom, we are.”
“Gamma.”
“You really are a prude, dear.”
We made our way to Bella’s room, the inn quiet again, and, hopefully, all the doors locked up tight in case the intruder decided to return. I wasn’t worried about myself as much as I was worried that the attacker would try to get to Peggy and wind up finishing the job this time.
Gamma brought us to Bella’s door, lifted her finger to her lips, and inserted the key into the lock.
I checked the hallway was empty then gave her the thumbs up.
Gamma let us into the unoccupied room.
The only problem was, it wasn’t empty.
Harley Davidson—gosh, would I ever get over how ridiculous her name was?—sat on Bella’s bed, paging through a journal. She froze, her fingers on the page, and stared at us.
Gamma shut the door with a click.
Harley jumped at the noise.
“Hello, dear,” Gamma said, “How are you?”
“I—uh—what are you doing here?” she asked.
“We’re here to clean up,” I said, straightening. I was still in my day clothes, though it would be more difficult to sell the cleaning spiel with Gamma in her PJs. “Bella’s been arrested. What are you doing here?”
“I was just collecting my things from her room,” Harley said. “She gave me a key.” She scrambled to lift a room key. “See? I’m just getting some things.”
“Like your journal?” I asked, taking a peek at the page.
She shut it. “Yes.”
“What was your journal doing in her room?” I asked.
“I don’t have to answer your questions.” Harley drew herself up straight. “You’re just a maid.” And with that, she pushed past us, wrenched the door open, and stormed out into the hallway. A moment later, another door shut—the one to her room.
“Well,” Gamma said, softly. “That was interesting. We’d better make this quick, dear, and make it look like we were cleaning rather than searching.”
“What was she doing in here?” A warm breeze brushed through the open window, and I walked over and closed it, then drew the curtains. “I don’t buy that it was her journal.”
“Who are we to say? She might’ve been in here to collect her things from her friend.”
“Or she was here for nefarious reasons.”
“Either way, we should hurry up and look,” Gamma said.
I wasn’t sure what we’d find that we hadn’t found the first time. We’d been as thorough as possible, but perhaps… “Does the inn have any secret passageways?” I asked. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’m desperate.”
“There are a few, yes,” Gamma replied. “But none that lead to the bedrooms that I know of.”
The Gossip Inn had so many secrets, I could barely keep track. We separated and set about searching the room. I neatened things up but noted that some of the clothing had already been packed away or removed. Perhaps, Harley had really been in here to collect a few things.
Regardless, there was no sign of the jewelry box. And no secret buttons that would open the walls or a compartment in the floor.
Gamma and I straightened everything up then let ourselves out of the bedroom, both frustrated at the lack of progress.
“We have to find that box,” I whispered.
“I know, dear. And we will. But for now, get some rest. We’ll continue the search in the morning.”
I wanted to argue, but a yawn cracked my jaw before I could.
27
The puzzling case of the missing jewelry box carried over through the night and right into the morning. I'd gone to bed thinking about it, and woken up in just about the same way. If I'd had the choice, I would have spent the entire morning searching.
There had been nothing in Bella's room, and nothing to discover in the rest of the inn. I would have been more frustrated, but this morning was screamingly busy.
Lauren needed my help in the kitchen, cooking a delicious breakfast for the guests, who had all arrived in the dining area about five minutes ago. They were all keen for eggs, bacon, biscuits, and perhaps a few of those vanilla cupcakes that were Lauren's specialty.
The kitchen smelled divine as usual and my stomach grumbled. But I had to focus, not just on serving breakfast, but on the case.
Where is it? Where could Bella have hidden it? Shoot, did Bella even take it in the first place?
“Are they all out there?” Lauren asked.
I peered through the porthole window, counting the heads.
Each table had been decked out with glasses and a jug of orange juice. A coffee station had been set up in one corner and teapots sat next to a selection of tea bags—from green tea to earl gray—and cups on a table near the front of the room.
Warm sunlight spilled through the windows and slanted across the polished wooden floors. The Gossip Inn was cozy, all right, but there was something missing. Or rather, someone. I frowned, checking my watch.
We had breakfast at the same time each day, 9 am, and it was the inn policy to serve everyone at once. No exceptions. If you missed the seating time, you'd have to source your breakfast somewhere else.
“Charlie?”
“No,” I said. “Someone's missing.”
“Oh?” Lauren loaded platters of eggs and bacon onto the silver serving trays. “Well, that's too bad. I'd hate for anyone to miss breakfast. We've gone all out today.” She moved on to serving up fried tomatoes and loading up the toast and butter dishes.
“Yeah.” But a strange squirmy feeling started up in my gut. Since I'd started working here, and granted, that hadn't been long, but since I had, no one had missed breakfast apart from Bella. And that was only because she'd been taken into custody.
Who was it?
I scanned the tables.
Harley wasn't in her usual window seat but had opted for one in the corner. Her eyes were slightly puffy and red, and she had lowered her head, occasionally lifting a coffee cup to her lips. The other guests were at their usual tables. All except for...
“I know who's missing,” I said.
“Who is it?”
“Peggy Ball.”
“Oh.” Lauren toyed with one of her red pigtails. “Do you want to go check in with her? Maybe she overslept. I can carry these platters through to the dining area in the meantime.”
“Are you sure? Weren't you going to have breakfast with your hubby?”
“No, no, that's fine. It won't take a minute. You go check on her. I'd much rather have everyone downstairs for breakfast than see someone miss out.”
“I'm on it.” I exited through the kitchen's side archway, my gaze shifting toward the entrance to the museum section of the inn, then to the stairs at the far end of the passage. If I'd been a betting woman—I wasn't, but my instincts were usually on point—I would've put money on there being a serious reason for Peggy's no-show at breakfast.
As long as I don't find her corpse.
After her attack last night, Peggy had refused help from the police. She'd insisted that she would be fine, but an officer had parked outside the inn for the night. Watching, just in case. I’d despised the fact that they were out there. It had felt almost as if they had their eyes on me, instead.
But the cops were gone now.
I took the stairs two at a time, that sense of foreboding growing.
Peggy's door was closed. I knocked, briskly. “Peggy?” I called. “Mrs. Ball? Are you in there? It's Charlie Mis—Smith. The maid?” What was wrong with me? This wasn't the first time I'd been undercover, but it seemed the most difficult. Maybe it was because this assignment was the most mundane I’d been on?
I tried the door and found it unlocked. It creaked, slightly, and I made a mental note to oil the hinges later on.
Peggy’s bedroom was empty, the windows closed, and the bed neatly made, though I hadn’t come up yet to do my cleaning for the morning. I ente
red. Where was Mrs. Ball?
There weren’t any signs of struggle, so I mentally ruled out a violent death. But what about a kidnap?
I opened the closet doors—her bags were neatly stacked inside, her clothes hanging on their hangers.
“Where are you, Mrs. Ball?” Could she have been abducted by the knife-wielding attacker from the other night?
I walked over to her bedside table and froze. A notebook lay open atop it and words were scrawled across the top of one of the pages.
Jewelry box.
Tomatoes and gbeans?? All she said.
It was a clue to the location of the jewelry box. It had to be. But where did it lead? It was something to do with vegetables. And how had Peggy gotten the clue? If she was gone, that had to mean that she’d gone after the jewelry box herself.
I tore off the top of the page then rushed from the room. I had to find Gamma and figure this out.
28
Gamma gripped the piece of paper, scanning the words.
“My only problem is, could it be as simple as that?” I asked. “I mean, why would Peggy be missing if the answer was so obvious.”
“Between the tomatoes and gbeans,” Gamma said. “Green beans, yes?”
“Yeah, that’s the most obvious assumption I can make,” I said and shifted in the comfy armchair in Gamma’s room. She hadn’t come down for breakfast because she’d been organizing contractors, screaming at Jessie Belle-Blue, and doing a small deal of sulking. Perhaps it was a great deal. But I’d never say that to her face.
“Heavens to Murgatroyd,” Gamma whispered, “if that Bella touched the vegetables in my greenhouse, she’s lucky she’s behind bars.”
“Now, Gammy, there’s no need for violence.”
“I’ve had a tough week, dear. What with this horrible Belle-Blue and her sabotage, and now this… in my greenhouse? Really?”
“Unless you can think of another place it would be.” I pushed out of the chair and walked to the window. Gamma’s side of the building looked down on the garden, but not the greenhouse. Still no sign of Peggy in the garden.
Where could she have gone?
If the clue was this simple, surely she would have run right down to the greenhouse, picked up the jewelry box and come back upstairs.
“What do you make of it?” I asked.
“I’m not sure yet, but there’s only one way we’ll find out what’s really going on here.”
“To the greenhouse?”
“Lead the way, dear.”
I forged ahead, barely paying the hall, stairs, and entryway any mind as I headed for the kitchen. It was empty, glistening tiles and countertops cleaned by Lauren before she’d headed out to do a bit of shopping this morning. The tantalizing scent of cupcakes still hung in the air.
The last time I’d been to the greenhouse, it’d been at Lauren’s request—it smelled exactly the same inside, of growing things and moist soil.
“This way, dear. The tomatoes are over here,” Gamma said, winding between the rows of growing fruit and veg. She halted next to the tomato vines, heavy with ripe red orbs. “No disturbed earth. And the green beans are right here.” She pointed toward the row of plants, green stems bursting from the ground, their leaves vibrant. The beans hung on the ends of their stalks, untouched.
What was more, the tomato bed and the green bean bed were separated by a brick path.
“How?” I asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. Between the tomatoes and the green beans?”
“I’m not sure. But clearly, Peggy didn’t have any luck either. Or she’d be here.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek then bent, running my fingers over the bricks, searching them for abnormalities. Ah-ha! One of the bricks wasn’t properly set in its mortar. I inserted my fingers around it and wiggled it.
The brick came away with ease.
“What have we got here?” I muttered.
Gamma stepped over the tomatoes and joined me.
The brick had given way to a small gap of dirt beneath it, and that dirt had been hollowed out. A package, wrapped in soil-smeared cloth, had been nestled neatly in the hole. I lifted it out, trying not to get too eager.
“Open it, sweetheart.”
I dropped the brick back into place and untied the package. A glittering golden jewelry box appeared from within the folds of fabric. We had it. We had the box.
Triumph streaked through me but was quickly replaced with concern. If the jewelry box was here, where was Peggy? Had she come by, struggled to find it, then… what? Left the inn? That didn’t make any sense to me.
But we had the box! And that meant we had a lead, assuming whatever Pete had given his wife was related to the murder.
Gamma patted me on the back. “Come on, dear, back to the inn we go. We need to find out what’s on that thumb drive.”
GAMMA and I sequestered ourselves in my room instead of hers. It was sunnier here, we had Cocoa Puff with us, and if we needed to get a hold of Smulder, for whatever reason, we could do it in privacy. My insides pitched at the thought of him, and how close we were to the deadline of my ‘discovery.’
If any fresh news broke about the inn or my involvement about the investigation, I doubted Smully would be able to squash it for long. The fact that he’d done so already, and hadn’t reported me to Special Agent in Charge Grant, was, well, it made my throat close a little.
Silly. You’ve never been emotional.
Hadn’t I been? I’d certainly cried after Kyle had betrayed me.
“All right,” Gamma said, as she waited for her laptop to boot up. “Are you ready?”
“Absolutely.” I plopped down on the bed beside her, and Cocoa Puff meowed at me for disturbing his sleep. “Gloves?”
“One moment.” Gamma bent and fished a box of latex gloves out of her handbag. She smiled, primly. “You never know when you might need a pair.”
“For dead bodies or for investigations,” I said, and drew a pair out of the top slot of the box. I snapped them into place on my fingers then lifted the jewelry box out of its cloth covering and set it in my lap. If there were any fingerprints on it, they wouldn’t be compromised by mine.
“Oh dear, be careful. You’re getting soil all over your dress.”
I’d put on the cheerful kitten dress this morning—purple with happy emoji cat faces all over it. “If anything that will improve my outfit,” I said, grimly.
Gamma tut-tutted at me. She’d chosen a dress herself, but it was plaid, neatly fitted, and modest. No garish colors for her.
I opened the jewelry box. Inside, an array of rings and necklaces nestled on velvet, and among them, a thumb drive shaped like a piece of sushi. I extracted it, carefully, waited for Gamma to snap on a pair of latex gloves herself, then handed it over to her.
“Here we go.” Gamma inserted the drive into her laptop’s USB port.
The file opened and pictures loaded inside it. Gamma opened one, and we flicked through them slowly. Each one was a shot of a sleek black truck next to the swimming hole. In some of the pictures, it appeared to be backing up to the open entrance, and in the next few—
“That’s trash,” I said.
“Now, there’s no need to be like that, dear. They’re still evidence photos if what Peggy said is—”
“No, Gam-Georgina, no I mean, for real. That’s trash. That’s the person who’s been dumping garbage into the swimming hole,” I continued. “And the swimming hole is right next to the plot of land where Pete wanted to build his restaurant.”
Gamma continued through the pictures then gasped as the back of the truck came into sharper focus, along with its license plate. The word ‘daboss1’ was printed on the back of it. “I know whose truck this is,” she said.
“Whose?”
“Grayson Tombs,” she replied. “This is his truck. I never forget an annoyingly arrogant license plate. Never.”
My eyes widened. Grayson had been dumping in the swimming hole. Grayson had been in talks with Pet
e about him building a restaurant right next door to it. This had to be the answer. It had to be him.
Starbursts of excitement erupted in my chest, and I jumped off the bed, drawing another disdainful meow from Cocoa Puff.
“This is it, Georgina,” I said. “We’ve got our guy.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, dear. We should give this information to the police.”
“Sure, sure, but not before we get a little extra Intel.” This murder had caused so much trouble, it would be a shame to see it solved by someone else.
“What are you suggesting?”
“We lure him here to the inn and we get him to fess up,” I said.
“Hmm, you’re misjudging the depth of the man’s arrogance. He likely thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, the police included,” Gamma replied. “And how on earth would you get him to confess?”
I cracked my knuckles and winked. “I have my ways. What do you say? Should we invite him over?”
“Oh yes,” Gam said. “Though, he won’t come here for us.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle that.” For the first time since I’d gone on the run, I had a plan.
29
The rest of the morning passed at a glacial pace.
Lauren was still out shopping with her sister, and I needed her back here before I could put my plans into action. The Gossip Inn was quiet too, most of the guests had left to explore the town or gone upstairs to relax for a while before they went off to see family or friends. Peggy hadn’t returned, and the concern that had started up after uncovering the jewelry box had swelled with every passing minute.
I didn’t think of myself as the heroic type. I did my job to the best of my abilities—sometimes, that meant doing bad things to get results—but I didn’t like the thought of a civilian in danger.
“It will be fine,” I said to myself, as I brandished my duster at the collection of artifacts and decorations in the entry hall.
I bent and peered at my reflection in the crystal ball then grimaced at the dark hair framing my face. At least, I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
What if the attacker got her?
Mission Inn-possible 01 - Vanilla Vendetta Page 12
