Gamma had told me not to jump to conclusions, but I was keen to call that Detective Crowley and let him know what had happened. Minus the fact that we’d already checked the thumb drive.
I swept the feathers of my duster over the crystal ball. If I called the police now, perhaps—
A knock rat-tatted against the inn’s open doors, and I spun around, lifting my feather duster.
Detective Crowley stood on the threshold in his police uniform, his dark-eyed gaze fixed on me. “Good morning, Miss Smith,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied. “I was just about to call you.”
He was dark-haired too and tall, handsome in his own way if I admitted it to myself, but wearing suspicion like a shroud. “Call me? And why’s that? Did you have a tip?”
“Kind of, yes,” I said. “But why are you here?”
“To talk to you, actually.”
“To me?” My heart thundered along. “What about?”
“Let’s find a private place to sit down.” He gestured to a side door that led into the library, and I hesitated.
Why did he want to talk to me? Obviously, the papers had spread the word that I was a person of interest, but I hadn’t heard anything from Crowley since he’d first questioned me.
“This way, Miss Smith.”
I followed him into the library, and he walked like he owned the entire inn. How frustrating. Maybe he wasn’t that handsome after all.
We sat down in the library across from each other, and I tucked the feather duster beside my armchair. I loved it in the library, the quiet and the smell of pages, all ruined by the tension now drifting between us.
“I wanted to go over what happened on the morning of the murder again,” he said. “You need to walk me through your steps, what you saw and which entrances you used in the inn.”
Entrances. Did that mean the murderer had entered through the back of the inn?
“Sure,” I said.
“But first, tell me what you wanted to say.”
“Can you wait here a second, please?”
“Yes.”
I ran upstairs and grabbed the jewelry box—repackaged in the fabric—and brought it back down to the library. “Here,” I said, handing it to Crowley. “We found this in the greenhouse the other day. There’s a thumb drive inside with images on it. Peggy told us about it.” Quickly, I broke down what had happened—that Peggy had been missing from the breakfast group, and that upon checking on her I’d found the note that had led us to the box.
Crowley listened, impassively, holding the jewelry box in his lap.
“We haven’t seen Peggy since this morning,” I said. “We’re worried about her, given what’s going on. Can we report her missing?”
“Hmm. This is suspicious,” Detective Crowley said. “I’ll handle this.” He placed the box on a side table. “However, there’s no evidence that Peggy is actually missing at this point. It’s been a few hours since you last saw her.”
“We saw her last night. And she was attacked, remember?”
“Of course. I’ll need to have a look at her room,” he said. “But first, let’s talk.”
I gritted my teeth. He wasn’t acting as if he cared about Peggy or the evidence he’d just been handed. I would’ve expected him to jump up and rush off to the police station to go over everything. But I spoke to him, regardless, detailing my movements again, and answering his questions.
After, he got up and asked to see Peggy’s room. He frowned as he looked around it, unreadable apart from the fact that he was clearly surveying the place for evidence.
“There’s no sign of distress,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean anything. She might have been hurt or attacked or…”
“Let me handle this, Miss Smith.” Crowley faced me. “I’ll make a report about this and have a few police officers over here to take more evidence. If Mrs. Ball’s sudden disappearance has anything to do with Mr. Ball’s demise, we will uncover it.”
“You have to find her,” I said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“As I said, Miss Smith, we’ve got everything under control.” Crowley sniffed. “I’ll be in touch with you again. I’d like for you to stay in town, where I can get a hold of you.”
“Am I that much of a suspect? I have no motive for hurting Pete,” I replied. “I didn’t even know the guy. Look, just check out the thumb drive, and after that, you’ll have a better idea of—”
Crowley snorted at me—he actually snorted at me—then marched from the room and back down the stairs. He was already out of the inn by the time I’d reached the landing. Rude, horrible man. I took back the positive thoughts I’d had about him.
And it made me eager to solve the case before he did.
I checked my watch, pursing my lips. “Come on, Lauren. Come back to the inn.” Time was a-wasting, and I’d have bet my last feather duster that Grayson Tombs was the murderer.
30
Lauren had graciously agreed that we could use her as an excuse tonight—a lure to draw Mr. Grayson Tombs to the Gossip Inn. She’d already gone home, leaving us to set up for the meeting that Gamma had arranged.
“You’re sure he’s going to come?” I set a table in the dining room, lighting candles and placing silverware. “He said so?”
“Yes, dear, he’s going to be here at 8 pm,” Gamma replied. “He was very enthusiastic about it, in fact. He didn’t seem bothered that it was me calling.”
“He must really like Lauren.”
“That or he desperately wants to come back to the inn.” Gamma had seated herself in one of the other chairs, watching as I put the finishing touches on my romantic setting.
I placed a crystal vase in the center of the table, a single red rose poking out of it.
“Is all of this necessary? You don’t have to go to such lengths. The man’s about to be questioned and cornered, not wined and dined.”
“There’s room for a little drama, Georgina,” I replied, stepping back from the table. It was still a struggle to call her by her full name and not just Gamma or Gam-Gam. “He’s going to come in and take a seat at the table. The setting will put him at ease. He’ll truly believe that he’s about to have a romantic date with our Lauren. The creep. And then I’ll appear to question him. And when he gets frustrated, you’ll appear with the evidence.”
“I like the way you think, dear. Tombs needs to learn his lesson.”
Headlights flashed across the living room window and the crunch of tires on the path outside followed.
“He’s here!” I clapped my hands together. “Into the kitchen, quick.” We darted inside, and I cut the lights, so we could watch Tombs enter without being spotted.
“Hello?” His voice sounded from the inn doors further down the hall. “Lauren? Where are you my little butter muffin?”
“Kill me now,” I hissed.
Gamma snorted softly.
I’d left a note on the front door, in Lauren’s handwriting, not that he knew it, directing him to enter the dining area where she would be waiting.
We peeked through the portholes, and my excitement grew.
Grayson entered through the archway and paused, a lascivious smile parting his lips at the sight of the decked-out table. He sat down at it, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and plucked the rose from the vase, heedless of the droplets of water it spattered across the white tablecloth.
“I told you the rose was a good idea,” I whispered. “He’s practically kissing it.”
Grayson sniffed the rose, tapping his fingers on the tabletop, next to his knife.
“All right,” I said. “Are you ready?”
“Ready, dear.”
“Let’s do this.”
I opened the kitchen door and entered the dining room. Grayson lifted his gaze from the table.
“There you are my—” His smile vanished. “What are you doing here?”
I pulled out the chair across from him and sat in it. “I’m here for our date, of course,” I repli
ed, flashing him a smile. The gloves were off, and I had already abandoned Charlotte Smith, though I still had brown hair.
Charlie Mission was back, and she was going to get her man.
“I’m here for Lauren,” he snapped.
“I’m heartbroken,” I replied, evenly. “You don’t want a date with me instead?”
“Get to the point, woman. Why are you really here?”
“I’m here because you’ve been a very, very busy man, Mr. Tombs,” I said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“I’m referring to your business meetings with Mr. Ball,” I replied. “Is it true that you spoke with him about the restaurant he planned on setting up next to the swimming hole?”
“Is that what this is about? Please,” he sighed, “spare me. What, are you hoping to run to the tabloids with fresh information or something? Pete and I had an amicable conversation about the land. He hadn’t made his decision on whether he was buying yet. In fact, he was going to let me know his decision on the morning it happened.”
“You can see how that would be suspicious, right?” I asked, leaning back in my seat and putting up a smile. Not snarky or cocky or mocking. Just a smile. I needed this man shocked by the surroundings and sudden change in plan and willing to lean on me as a result. “I mean, I’m not saying you did anything to him.”
“Why are you asking me these ridiculous questions?” he huffed.
Tombs could’ve gotten up and stormed out by now, but he hadn’t. He wanted to know what I knew.
“The inn is important to me. The murder has scared the guests and the staff. I’d like to understand why it happened, and I’ve got to say, I don’t have full faith that Detective Crowley knows what’s best for the investigation.”
At the mention of Crowley’s name, the rich man’s face pulled tight in a micro-expression of anger. His tongue came out and slashed across his lips. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. So, look, there are a few people who were in contact with Pete before he passed, and I feel like… well, I feel like we need to eliminate you as fast as possible. That way, I can move on to finding the real killer.”
Grayson tapped his fingers on the table, the rose he’d been holding lying forgotten next to his chair. “And you really think you can figure out who did it? You don’t have many resources.”
“Oh yes,” I said. “I’ve already got a few witness statements. And Bella Rodriguez confessed to me that she had been stealing from the other guests.”
“She did?”
“Yes,” I said and put up a sympathetic expression. “Look, Mr. Tombs, I really do care about the people in the inn. I haven’t been here long, but this town is exactly the type of small town I grew up in. I love it here, and I want to help them. Do you think you could help me, help them?” Every word I’d said in the conversation so far had been a tactic to put him at ease and get him talking.
Of course, I did care about the people in the town, but he had no idea he was my main suspect.
“People in this town look up to you,” I continued, “you’re a good man. Why else would you have started a family restaurant like the Hungry Steer? It brings people together.”
His shoulders tugged back, and his chest swelled. “I like to provide for the people of this town. I could have moved on, y’know. There are larger cities with more opportunities.”
“But you didn’t,” I said. “And that says something to me. I think you want to help me and the people of Gossip. Am I right?”
“Well, yeah, of course, I do,” he blustered.
“Great. That’s great,” I replied. “So walk me through that meeting with Mr. Ball.”
“Oh, it was simple enough,” he said. “Ball came to see me about the plot of land next to the swimming hole. He wanted to buy it and build a restaurant next to it, but there were complications. The swimming hole crossed the property line, and since I own the swimming hole, he wanted to talk to me about it.”
“And how did that talk go?”
His gaze flicked away from mine. “Oh, it was amicable enough.”
“Great,” I said. “Now, I have another question, and this might seem a little out of left field.” I laughed. “Bear with me, OK?”
“Sure.”
“Do you drive a black Ford truck?”
“Yes, I do.”
That was the code for Gamma to enter. The kitchen door swung outward and she appeared, carrying a manila folder under one arm. “Good evening, Mr. Tombs.”
“Georgina,” he nodded to her, no longer angry. That meant I’d done my part.
Gamma grabbed a chair and dragged it to the table. She sat down and placed the folder on it. “I believe my employee has been talking with you about the case?”
“Yeah. Didn’t know y’all were working it until tonight,” he said, tilting his head. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Georgina.”
“Oh, when it comes to the inn and Gossip, I’m very protective.” She didn’t open the file yet. “Mr. Tombs, were you threatened by Mr. Ball closing in on your market?”
“What? No. Of course not,” he said. “When he came to see me, everything was fine. And when he left, I hung around in my office for a while, thinking about how good things had gone. I actually told my receptionist that was the case. I have a big office building in the center of town. I’ll tell ya, acquiring it was quite the—”
“So, you wouldn’t have done anything to sabotage him?” Gamma asked, cutting over the extraneous detail—that much irrelevant information was usually a sign that the speaker had something to hide.
“Of course not! I had no reason whatsoever to—”
Gamma opened her folder and slipped out the pictures we had printed of his truck, dumping garbage into the swimming hole. “Could you then explain what your truck was doing at the swimming hole, dumping trash into the water?”
Grayson blinked.
“It seems to me that Mrs. Ball wanted to continue the acquisition of the land, is that correct?” This was a guess on my part, but it made sense. Why else would the attacker have wanted her out of the way?
“She came to see me after he had passed and told me that she wanted to honor him by continuing with the acquisition,” he said. “But that’s… that doesn’t matter. I’ve never been to the swimming hole at night. And I certainly wouldn’t dump trash in the water! Why would I do that when I own the land?”
“To devalue the swimming hole and surrounding area and ensure that any construction or buy-out would be halted. After all, how could Peggy buy the land when part of it was filled with trash? The police are actively investigating the vandalism.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Grayson said, stubbornly. “And I haven’t had my truck out there for months. For months!”
“These pictures are dated from weeks back,” I said. “From before the murders. A week before, actually. Mr. Ball gave them to his wife with the instruction that if he died, what was in these pictures would help the police catch the killer.”
Grayson gasped and sucked and spluttered. “I didn’t kill him, I swear.”
“Then explain to us how your truck is in these pictures.”
He scrambled a hand into his pocket, and I tensed, prepared to dive across the table and take him out if necessary. But Grayson only brought his cellphone out. “I’m as alarmed about this as you are. I’ve parked my truck in my driveway every night. The only places I go are to the office building, the Hungry Steer, the store and home. This is impossible.”
“That’s your number plate.” Gamma tapped on the picture.
“Yes it is,” he said. “Just you wait, ladies, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I’ll call my tracking company. I have GPS in that truck, and it pings every few minutes.”
“That would be very helpful.” I kept my surprise to myself. Was there any proof that he hadn’t been driving the truck yet? No. But the fact that he was so surprised by it and willing to help set me on edge. If we
could get an alibi for him on the night the images were taken—
“Yes, hello?” Grayson rose from the table and walked away, a finger up to us. He spoke quietly on the phone near the window, shaking his head. “You’re sure about that? Erratic? Thank you.” He came back and sat down. “You’re right. That is my truck. I mean, of course, it’s my truck. The GPS folks said that it’s been going out to the swimming hole with a lot of frequency and that the driving patterns seem erratic in comparison to the trips I make during the day.”
“And they didn’t inform you of this prior?”
“No,” Grayson said, with a growl in his tone. “I’ll be having words with their owner about that. But look, I can provide an alibi for this night. I was at the Hungry Steer at this exact time.” He pointed to the timestamp on the photo. “I have surveillance footage.”
“You don’t have to show us.” Gamma smiled. “It’s the police who’ll want to know. They have this evidence too.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Grayson replied, but he didn’t seem that happy about the prospect. “I appreciate that y’all are trying to help out Gossip, but I should go. I take it Lauren ain’t here?”
“No, she’s not.” Oh yeah, I nearly forgot he was a creep who likes to hit on married women. “She’s at home with her husband.”
“Whom she loves,” Gamma inserted.
“Then I’ll get going.” No shame whatsoever, Grayson rose from the table. “If you find anything else regarding the truck or anything. Please contact me at my offices. I’ll be more than happy to help. I don’t want anyone thinking that I was involved in this. Bad for business, y’know?” He walked from the room, leaving us by the candlelight. His truck started and drove off a minute later.
Gamma and I stared at each other.
“What now?” I asked.
“Someone dumped that trash in the water. And that someone was out to get Pete, or so he believed,” Gamma said.
“We just have to figure out who it was.”
31
I paced back and forth in the kitchen at 5 am, stopping to glare at my notepad with all its musings about the murder on it, then moving off again. Cocoa wasn’t allowed in here, much to his disdain, and he sat out in the hall, flicking his tail and occasionally meowing at me.
Mission Inn-possible 01 - Vanilla Vendetta Page 13
