Mission Inn-possible 01 - Vanilla Vendetta

by Rosie A. Point

  I had gone to bed hours ago and lay awake, my hands folded on my chest.

  Grayson had an alibi for the night the pictures had been taken. But did that really mean he was innocent? No, surely not. What if he’d had an accomplice? Someone who had dumped the trash to unsettled Pete and break the deal.

  Had Pete then decided to go ahead with it anyway? Had he threatened Grayson about it? Perhaps said he would go to the cops? Then Grayson might’ve taken matters into his own hands.

  But that still didn’t help. I had no evidence to prove that was the case.

  “Think,” I muttered, and plopped down in the chair at the kitchen table. I sipped my coffee—one good thing about the inn was that there was practically coffee on tap, and the good stuff too—scanning my list again and again.

  Cocoa meowed and got up, pacing in the hall.

  “OK,” I whispered. “OK, think.” I blotted the nib of my pen next to Pete’s name at the top. “We have a dead man, a restaurateur. And we have his wife, who is officially missing now.” Poor Peggy. “His wife had been attacked before she went missing. The night before. With me so far, Cocoa?”

  He planted his fluffy butt on the hall rug.

  “So Pete’s dead. Peggy’s missing. The swimming hole is full of trash, and Grayson’s truck was seen there. The snaps of that truck were taken by Pete who claimed that whoever was doing the dumping was after him. But Grayson himself has an alibi for the night of the dumping. And as for the morning of the poisoning… if he didn’t have a real alibi, he’d already have been in police custody.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, pointing my pen at Cocoa. “So who is it? Who is it? This doesn’t make any sense. Someone who knows how to hotwire a car? Or who had stolen Mr. Tombs’ keys?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip.

  Coco’as purring—a small comfort through the confusion—reached my ears.

  “Who else? The guests. Bella was a thief meeting with the bad dude, Frederickson. Bella and Harley were friends. We found Harley in her room, messing with a journal. Harley was also acting suspiciously on the morning of the murder, coming in early from somewhere.” I straightened, my eyes widening. “What if she was out using Grayson’s truck? But no, why would she have been? What motivation would she have to hurt Pete? Or to dump trash in the swimming hole? Could Bella have stolen Grayson’s spare set of keys and Harley have used them?”

  The front door of the inn opened and shut, and I quit talking. Footsteps clopped down the hall, and Lauren appeared in the doorway, wearing a bandana, a chef’s jacket and a pair of clogs. Her cheeks were flushed pink. “Oh! You’re here.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m here. I couldn’t sleep. Are you OK? You look kind of pink.”

  Lauren pressed her lips together. She came forward and placed her bag on an empty chair. “I think I was just followed,” she said.

  “What?”

  She sucked in a few breaths. “I ran the last bit of the way to the inn. I heard someone walking down the street behind me.”

  “You walked to the inn?”

  “Yeah, I like to walk some mornings, especially when it’s early. It’s a good way to get in some exercise before the start of the day. But, it’s—I was walking along, and I heard a noise behind me as I turned the corner to enter the long road that leads to the inn.”

  “And?”

  “I looked back, but there was no one there.” Lauren shrugged. “So, I figured I was just hearing things. Maybe paranoid because of the inn and Peggy being missing. But when I started walking, I heard it again. I could tell because the steps were sort of staggered. When I took a step, the person would take one a second after, if you know what I mean. But whenever I looked back, the coast was clear. So I just ran until I reached the inn’s gates and let myself in.”

  “Sit, sit,” I said. “Let me make you a coffee.”

  “A hot chocolate,” Lauren replied. “I need something sweet, please.”

  I set about making it, my heart pounding now. What on earth was going on in Gossip? First Pete, then Peggy missing, and now someone following Lauren to work? But why? What did she have to do with any of it?

  My gut said this wasn’t a serial killer. This was someone motivated by something else. I only had to figure out what Lauren had in common with the other victims. Oh heavens, not that Peggy was a victim, how terrible.

  I brought Lauren her hot chocolate and sat next to her, patting her arm. “It’s going to be all right,” I said. “You’re safe in the inn.”

  She peered into the mug. “Am I? What if someone poisons me next?”

  “Not on our watch. We’ll make sure there’s someone in the kitchen during meals from now on. Right?”

  “Right,” Lauren said and took a sip from her mug. “This is great.” She stiffened, waiting as if she expected to keel over just as Pete had. When she didn’t, she took another sip from the mug. “Thanks, Charlie. You’ve already made me feel better.”

  “You’re welcome.” I didn’t feel any better myself. I still didn’t know who it was, and while I’d have loved to have blamed my nerves on not having solved the case and there being a killer on the loose, a part of that anxiety sprung from Smulder. And what might happen if Special Agent in Charge Grant found out he’d been squashing websites to hide my identity.

  The week was almost over. My time would soon be up.

  32

  I had gone from a solid lead, a suspect, a building case against Grayson Tombs, to flat nothing in the span of one night. And I was exhausted to boot. Thankfully, I was accustomed to being tired on a job. It was the frustration that had gotten under my skin.

  I’d never met a challenge I couldn’t solve or overcome. And it irked me that innocent Gossip had provided me with the first real issue of my career.

  I rinsed off and stacked the last of the plates into the dishwasher.

  “I’m going to hang around here for a while, I think,” Lauren said, from the kitchen table. She’d already grabbed herself one of her signature cupcakes and had peeled off the wrapper. “If Georgina doesn’t mind.”

  “Why on earth would I mind, dear?” Gamma asked, from her spot near the kitchen doors that led to the dining area. “I love having you here. Are you worried because of this morning?”

  “A little,” Lauren admitted. “I’m afraid that I’ll go out there and whoever it was will tail me again. I know that’s probably such a silly thing to think, but with what happened to Pete and now Peggy…”

  “It’s not silly at all.” I brushed off my hands on my Gossip Inn apron. “I think it’s wise that you hang around here. When you’re ready to leave, I’ll walk you home.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t have to do that. Besides, I don’t think we’ll be any safer with two women together instead of one.”

  I would’ve smirked, but I kept my expression blank. Lauren had no idea who I was or what I was capable of. If the person who’d followed her, I suspected they were either Peggy’s attacker or the murderer, tried anything in broad daylight, I’d incapacitate them before they had a chance to have second thoughts.

  “We can go in my car,” Gamma said. “And we’ll drop you off and make sure you get home safely. Does that sound good to you?”

  “Yes, that sounds great. Thank you so much, Georgina. I really appreciate that. Thanks, Charlie.”

  “No need to thank us, dear,” Gamma said. “What are friends for?” But there was an edge to her voice. Gamma didn’t like this any more than I did. Our hands were tied until we found another clue, and I was sure that finding Peggy would lead us to the real murderer.

  “I should go upstairs and do some dusting.”

  “More dusting?” Gamma asked.

  “It was a museum,” I replied, snootily. “It gathers dust quickly.”

  “Hmm, there’s a hoover in the hall closet, Charlie. You can use that as well.” Gamma had my laziness pegged for exactly what it was.

  I couldn’t help it. I definitely wasn’t cut out for being a maid. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.�
� I waved a hand at her and trudged out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the first landing. I grabbed my trusty feather duster from the hall closet, then made my way down the passage, checking each door. All of them had ‘do not disturb’ signs hanging from their knobs.

  Harley’s room was first, followed by Bella’s. Then there was an old man with the surname Wilkinson, and another couple of ladies who spent every minute together, and whose names had slipped my mind. Peggy’s room was right at the end.

  I shrugged and circled back, stopping to dust the paintings. An end table sat beneath one of them, packed with trinkets that Gamma had stacked for the guests to view and that likely had interesting origins.

  Cocoa Puff padded down the hall toward me.

  “Hello, sweet kitty,” I said and stroked him.

  I could always count on him to cheer me up. He purred then sat down next to my feet.

  “I’m cleaning. And thinking. If only I could come up with a reason why any of this has happened.” Sunday was tomorrow, and my heart was in my throat. It was for sure that Smulder would tell Special Agent in Charge Grant about my little mishap. It seemed impossible that this would be solved by then.

  Cocoa meowed and rubbed against me then scratched at the base of the table.

  “Hmm?”

  Coco scratched some more, his tail thudding against my leg.

  “Cocoa?”

  Another meow, this one more urgent than the last.

  “What is it?” I bent down and peered at the table legs.

  Cocoa was obsessed with one of them, scratching and snuffling and meowing away. A piece of white poked out from under a table leg. I wormed it out, and Cocoa finally backed up and sat down, silent and purring again.

  “A piece of paper. Coco, did you write me a letter?” I winked at him and unfolded the paper.

  Dear Grayson,

  I want you to know that everything I did was for you.

  I love you so much. I know we can be together if you just give me a chance. I will make you the best wife of all time.

  Meet me at the swimming hole at 10 pm on Saturday, February 1st. I’ll show you how serious I am about us.

  Love from,

  Your secretest admirer.

  A few of the words had been scratched through, and it was clear that this letter wasn’t the final draft. I scanned the words, searching for an answer as to who had written it, but there was nothing that stood out.

  Apart from the fact that it was addressed to Grayson. And that they had been doing something for him. My gut said it had to do with the dumping of trash. And the murder.

  Quickly, I scrambled my phone out of my apron pocket and dialed Grayson’s offices.

  “Tombs Enterprises, how may I help you?”

  “Hi, I need to speak to Grayson, immediately. Tell him it’s Charlotte Smith and I have news about the ongoing investigation.”

  “One moment, please,” the receptionist said, sweetly.

  I listened to some cheerful music while I waited, glancing up and down the hall. Where had the note come from? It had to be someone in the house? Could it have been here since Bella had lived here? Was it Harley? Or someone else? One of the other women who stayed here? Someone who had gotten in through the museum section of the inn?

  “This is Grayson Tombs.”

  “Mr. Tombs, it’s Charlotte Smith. I’m sorry to call you unexpected like this, but I just found something and I need to check in with you about it.” I explained about the note, briefly. “The meeting is dated for the 1st. Did you receive something like this?”

  “I did, actually. Just this morning. An anonymous letter asking me to meet someone on February 1st at the swimming hole at 10 pm.”

  My stomach leaped. We had a lead. Someone at the inn had sent Grayson a letter. It didn’t necessarily mean they were the murderer, but it was still a clue. A connection.

  “Thank you, Mr. Tombs.” I hung up before he could say anything else, and ran back downstairs, my feather duster forgotten, and Cocoa on my heels.

  33

  The time was 9:45 pm, and Gamma and I were suited up in our all black clothing minus the balaclavas. If we did catch the perp, we’d have to call the police, and if that happened, they’d likely ask why Gamma was in a balaclava. I couldn’t be there, obviously.

  But I’d gotten ahead of myself. We had to catch the admirer first.

  Gamma lifted her night vision goggles and scanned the entrance to the swimming hole. We’d parked nearby, in one of the allocated parking spots, in Gamma’s daily driver rather than her SUV. Once again, if we called the cops, they would ask questions about Gamma’s secret car. We might need it in the future if we had to make a hasty escape from Kyle or one of my grandmother’s many enemies.

  “See anything?” I asked, tying my hair up for what had to be the fiftieth time. It kept coming down and annoying me. This was why I kept my hair short.

  “Nothing yet, but they’re not due for another fifteen minutes.”

  “I think I know who it might be,” I whispered. “But I could be wrong.”

  “You, dear? Wrong? I don’t understand how that might be possible.”

  “Your faith in me is admirable.”

  “Well?” Gamma prompted. “Who do you think it is?”

  “It’s a woman, obviously, but I can’t figure out why she would go to these lengths. I can understand admiring someone, but why…?”

  Gamma shushed me. “She’s here.” She pointed to a figure cutting its way across the gravel in front of the entrance to the swimming hole. The lights were on, and I caught a glimpse of blonde hair. My suspicions were confirmed.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Gamma abandoned her night vision goggles.

  The suspect dipped through a gap in the fence and hurried into the trees. She hadn’t specified a meeting spot, but she was here early. Perhaps, that meant she had something prepared for Grayson. She had no idea, however, that Grayson would be a no-show. In her delusional mind, had she thought he’d find the message exciting?

  We exited Gamma’s car and traced the woman’s steps to the fence. I held it open for Gamma, wearing my black leather gloves. My grandmother went in first, and I followed in her steps, silent as the spy I’d trained to be.

  Gamma was even quieter if that was possible. We whispered across the grass, moving toward a faint flicker of light. It was further back from the swimming hole, on the ledge behind and above it that was densely populated by trees.

  I signaled to Gamma that our suspect was ahead, and she nodded in response. We circled around, keeping the light parallel to our position, then approached.

  The light originated from a clearing—it was a highly illegal open fire—that our suspect, the blonde, Harley Davidson had lit. She wore a tight-fitting red dress and a pair of sneakers, her long hair sweeping past her shoulders.

  Gamma looked over at me.

  I lifted my hand to signal to her, but a low whining noise interrupted me, followed by a muffled sob. Gamma and I stepped to the left, circling again to get a better look at the spot where the noise had originated from.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Sitting in the clearing near the fire, with her hands and legs bound in front of her, and a gag tucked between her teeth, was Peggy Ball. She glared up at Harley.

  “You think this has been bad so far?” Harley asked her, bringing a knife out of her pocket and gesturing with it. “Wait until Grayson gets here and sees what I’ve done. You’re going to be gutted like the pig you are.”

  The time to act was on its way, but I put up a hand to Gamma. I wanted to hear this out.

  Harley clearly wasn’t in her right mind. She passed the knife from one hand to the other and muttered under her breath. She shook her head. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this moment? Mr. Tombs was my father’s best friend when I was in high school, and now he’s going to be my lover, and nothing will stand in my way. Nothing!”

  Gross.

  I sign
aled to Gamma to move into position.

  She strode out into the clearing and put herself between Harley and Peggy.

  Harley backpedaled and nearly dropped her knife. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “Good evening, dear,” Gamma said, cheerfully. “I thought I might find you here.”

  “You thought…?”

  “Why do you have Mrs. Ball tied up and at your mercy?” Gamma asked, once again, in that soothing tone, as if she was facing a raging bull. “Is it because of Grayson?”

  Harley lifted the knife. “I’ll kill you too, you know. I’ll kill you, and I don’t have to poison you to do it.”

  “So, you did kill Pete,” Gamma said.

  I remained in the trees, biding my time. I would be the one to step in and incapacitate her once we had what we needed. Gamma was wired, and the recording would be given to the police and admissible in court since Gamma wasn’t technically getting an illegal confession. She wasn’t law enforcement anymore.

  “Yeah, I killed him, and I’ll kill you too.”

  “That won’t be necessary, dear. I’m just curious how you got the poison into my inn. I need to make sure that breaches like that don’t happen again.”

  Harley stood dead still. Her expression was blank. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t all there tonight. Or maybe she never had been. “The kitchen was empty. I came through from the museum. And the poison… I work in a lab.”

  “That’s very good, dear, thank you for telling me,” Gamma said. “Would you mind lowering the knife? Now, I understand it was you who attacked Mrs. Ball. What I don’t understand is why.”

  “They were trying to put Grayson out of business.” Harley had those crazy eyes—wide and staring, hardly blinking.

  So, that was it. She’d tried to devalue the property and stop the deal from growing through, all because she’d cultivated an obsession with Tombs. She was motivated by, not love, but lust. And she’d confessed. We had everything we needed.

  I snuck out of the trees, moving up behind her.