Have a Deadly New Year

by Lynn Cahoon

  “Okay, so what do we talk about besides the guy bleeding out in the dining room?” Hope took a bite of her muffin as she waited for an answer. When one didn’t come, she nodded. “That’s the point. There isn’t anything else to talk about.”

  They all sat in the kitchen, listening for the ambulance or any sirens. When they finally came, Angie let out a long breath. “I’ll go meet them at the front door. You guys stay here. Hope, will you make a fresh pot of coffee? I have a feeling it’s going to be a long morning.”

  Chapter 3

  The EMT guys were inside as soon as she opened the door. She pointed to the right. “He’s in there.”

  The lead guy nodded, and they disappeared. Then a man in a tan police outfit with a large brimmed hat came in, knocking the snow off his boots as he stepped over the threshold. “Sheriff John Pearson, ma’am. Are you the Felicia Williams who made the call?”

  Angie shook her head. “She’s in the kitchen. I’m Angie Turner, Felicia’s partner in the County Seat, a restaurant. We’re here from River Vista. We catered last night’s dinner.”

  “And why exactly did you stay overnight? Typically catering companies leave as soon as the food is delivered.” He pulled out a pen and the same type of notebook that Ian’s uncle used.

  “Felicia is friends with Cliff Henry, the owner. He gave us use of the house for a week after we catered the dinner. It was part of our payment.” Angie ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I’m not explaining things well. Why don’t you come in and have some coffee. We’re mostly in the kitchen. Cliff and Bailey haven’t come downstairs yet. Actually, none of the others have come downstairs.”

  Sheriff Pearson pointed up the stairs. “Jake, you take Hank upstairs and bring everyone down to the living room. Stay away from the dining room. No need getting everyone all upset.”

  At that point the EMTs ran back past us in the foyer. Dane was strapped to a gurney and had an oxygen mask on. “We’re taking him to St. Luke’s. I’ll get you an update as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks, Kevin.” The sheriff slapped the guy on the back as he took off at a run following the gurney. He turned toward me. “Let’s go get some of that coffee.”

  When they reached the kitchen, Estebe was there. He’d changed his shirt and washed his hands before he’d come back to be with the group. When Angie met his eyes, he shook his head, letting her know the guy might have been alive when they took him out of the house, but Estebe didn’t hold much hope.

  She noticed he stood by Felicia, his hand resting on her shoulder.

  Angie turned to the new arrival. “Guys, this is Sheriff Pearson. Sheriff, this is my crew.” She went around and introduced everyone. The sheriff shook hands with the group one by one as she walked over and poured him a cup of coffee. Setting it on the table near an empty spot, she motioned. “I guess you want to interview us? If we do it one at a time, we could go into the living room, or I saw an office off the hallway you could use.”

  He looked up at her in surprise. “That’s nice of you. You sound like you’ve done this before.”

  Everyone around the table, besides Angie and the sheriff, laughed.

  Now the look on his face turned to confusion. “Did I miss something? Or say something funny?”

  “I have a reputation for sticking my nose into the local investigations in River Vista. Although”—she held up her hand—“I swear it’s not my fault. Either I’m a suspect because we’re the new guys, or someone from my group is the suspect. Honestly, we’re all respectful, upfront people. No shady sides here.”

  “You’re forgetting about Matt,” Estebe deadpanned. “He’s the shadiest of the shady.”

  “Am not. You’re the one who has more money than God. Maybe not all of it comes from legal methods?” Matt shot back.

  “Children, let’s keep our joking to a minimum. You’re going to give the sheriff the wrong idea about us.” Angie tried to keep the mood light, but from the look on the sheriff’s face, she might be too late. “Look, Sheriff Allen Brown from River Vista can vouch for us. Although, full disclosure, I date his nephew. But it’s a really small town.”

  He sipped his coffee then nodded. “Okay then. I’ll do the interviews in that small office you mentioned. Do you want to take me there? And who wants to be interviewed first?”

  Hope shot up from her seat. “Me, take me. I hate waiting, and my active imagination is too willing to tell me about all the things that can go wrong with talking to the police. I’ll go first and tell my story, then it’s done.”

  He smiled at the younger woman. “That’s a great plan. Let’s go get this over with.”

  “Like a root canal,” she said, her grin infectious. “I know the office. I can walk you there.”

  After they’d left, Angie filled her cup. “What a mess. This is supposed to be a relaxing week, not another murder investigation.”

  “They do tend to follow you around.”

  Angie’s head popped up as she considered Estebe’s words. “You forgot to say ‘but it’s not your fault.’”

  “Because I do not believe that. I believe we bring into our lives the things we most need to learn. So what are you learning from this, Angie?” Estebe leaned back in his chair and watched her.

  “I really don’t think that’s fair.” Angie was about to explain why when Hope came running into the kitchen.

  “Sheriff Pearson needs to talk to you.”

  “In the office?” Angie stood and started to leave, but Hope put a hand on her arm.

  “He’s not in the office. He’s by the front door. He’s leaving.” Hope stared into Angie’s eyes. “He’s leaving us here.”

  “Calm down.” Angie nodded to Estebe, who stood and took Hope’s arm to lead her to the table. “I’ll be right back as soon as I talk to the sheriff.”

  He was on the phone, but he told the person on the other line to hold for a minute. “Glad you’re here. I need you to keep everyone here until I get back. There’s a missing child just reported in, and with the weather, I don’t want to delay the search. I need to get everything handled on that front, then I’ll come back and finish these interviews.”

  Angie shook her head. “No. You can’t. You don’t understand.”

  He put on his hat, but he paused at the door. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be back in an hour or so, three max.”

  Angie dropped her voice. “What if someone tried to kill Dane? That means they’re still here. In the house.”

  He laughed. “From what I know of this group, he probably fell on the stick as he passed out from drugs or alcohol or both. You’re perfectly safe.”

  “Okay then, but you better be back in no more than three hours, or I’m going to be freaking out here.” Angie gave him a supportive smile, but she didn’t feel very supportive. How could he just leave them there, especially without a clear-cut decision on what really happened to Dane. She thought murder was probably the most likely, but she wasn’t a trained investigator. Just someone with a good Spidey sense. One that Sheriff Pearson thought she must have gotten out of a cereal box.

  Men were infuriating at times. But she had to give him credit, at least he was asking for her help and not just barking orders. He looked at her, really looked at her, then sighed. “I tell you what. I can’t leave an officer up here, but I can leave a vehicle. It will look like you’ve got twenty-four seven protection detail. It’s the best I can do for now.”

  Angie knew the sheriff was convinced that whatever had happened to Dane had been his own fault. She wasn’t as sure. She thought of her kitchen crew, her friends, heck, her family. She met the sheriff’s eyes. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Angie watched out the window as the emergency vehicles left, one by one. As promised, a single police car sat in the oversized driveway now. It wasn’t much of a protection, especially if the killer was in the house. “Not killer
, Angie,” she whispered to herself. “Attacker.”

  “Who was attacked?”

  The voice came from close behind her, and she spun to see Steve Pines standing there, looking out at the police car. “Why are the police here? Why wasn’t I alerted?”

  “The police went up and knocked on everyone’s door. You all were supposed to be down here a while ago.” Angie took in the man standing before her. Apparently, he’d taken the time to shower, dress in dark jeans and a sweater, and put gel in his salt-and-pepper hair. If she didn’t know better, she’d guess that the guy was in his early forties, but she knew that Postal Mutiny’s manager had to be in his sixties, just from the bands he’d previously managed.

  “Oh, I just thought that was my wakeup call for the trip to the airport.” He glanced at his watch. “We need to get going if we’re going to be in L.A. by dinner.”

  “You can’t leave.”

  He frowned at her, probably wondering who she was even to think of giving him orders. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

  “I’m the caterer.” Angie grimaced, knowing how stupid that sounded. “Look, something has happened. Dane, well, he was rushed to the hospital, and the sheriff told me to tell everyone to stay here.”

  “Well, I’m sure Dane will be fine. He’s a pro at this overdosing thing. He knows just how much to take to get the attention he wants. He’ll just have to meet us in L.A. tomorrow when he’s released.” He visibly relaxed now that he thought he had the problem handled. He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll call the sheriff and explain things so you don’t get in trouble. Do we have coffee available?”

  He turned and walked away from her but froze in the dining room. His eyes widened at the sight of the blood pool on the floor. “What the hell happened in here?”

  “I told you. Dane was hurt.” She didn’t want to tell him exactly how hurt the guy actually was, mostly because it wasn’t her job. Besides, he wasn’t listening anyway. “The sheriff thinks he fell on a drumstick.”

  “That’s impossible. One, drumsticks aren’t pointy enough to cause this type of damage. And two, it would have had to be sticking straight up out of the floor for him to fall that way. Stupid police. They never know anything.” He glanced at the doorway from the dining room to the kitchen. “Is there a different way to get there besides traipsing through that blood? I really need coffee.”

  She led him the other way to the kitchen. The chatter of her group stopped as soon as Steve walked into the room. “Guys, this is Steve Pines, the band’s manager.”

  He walked straight to the coffeepot and took a cup out of the cabinet. He poured the coffee, then took a large sip, leaning on the counter and looking at them. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t understand what happened to Dane. You all look fairly normal for chefs. And he wasn’t that drunk last night.”

  “He was drunk enough to get in a fight with Cliff,” Felicia reminded him. “A fight mean enough that most of the band and road crew left before dessert was served.”

  Steve shrugged. “That’s just the way Postal Mutiny is. The boys fight. We disappear and give them some space, then the next day, everything’s fine.”

  “Except three years ago the fights got so bad the band broke up,” Matt added to the story.

  “Yes, both Cliff and Dane needed some time apart. Some time honestly to realize they needed each other. You know they both had a solo project that totally tanked last year. That’s why we were getting the band back together. They needed each other.” He sipped his coffee. “You can’t think that Cliff had anything to do with this. He’s a lamb. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “I agree with you. I don’t think Cliff could do this,” Felicia added.

  The side door from the dining room opened, and Cliff walked into the kitchen. “What am I being blamed for now? Spilling the wine in the dining room? It’s my house. Why would I want to trash it?”

  Steve hurried to pour Cliff a cup of coffee. “Sit down. I need to tell you something.”

  Estebe stepped closer to Angie. “Maybe we should block off the dining room somehow? We’ve got several others who might think the blood is just wine as well.”

  “Wait, that’s blood? Who cut themselves on my carpet?” Cliff sank into a chair, his head in his hands. “You know that’s going to have to be replaced now.”

  “The sheriff should have taped off the room. Although with this group, I’m not sure it would have stopped them.” Leaving telling Cliff to Steve, Angie started going through drawers and pulled out a roll of duct tape. Then she found a black marker and took out sheets of paper from the printer sitting at the kitchen desk station. “Take this and block off the doorway.”

  Hope stood and took the paper from Angie’s hand. “I’ll help. I need to be doing something.”

  When Angie came back to the table after Estebe and Hope left the kitchen, Cliff glared at her. “Now you’re putting that tape on my walls? Do you know what it will do to the paint? I had that shade made up specifically for the house. I’ll have to repaint the entire downstairs.”

  “Cliff, we’ve got bigger problems than the paint.” Steve watched as Cliff took a sip of coffee. “Dane, well, Dane’s...”

  “Just tell me what Dane did now. And if it’s bad enough that we’re going to have to postpone the album. I knew he didn’t want to start working on the songs now. He’s so involved in that stupid tell-all book he’s writing. I swear it’s his way of rewriting history so he’ll look like the good guy in our relationship.”

  “Cliff, Dane, well, he’s...” Steve looked at Angie, his gaze begging her to take over the story.

  She shot Steve a look of disgust, then knelt next to Cliff to meet his gaze. “They took Dane to the hospital. He’s not doing well. He lost a lot of blood from the wound.”

  “Blood? You weren’t kidding?” Cliff’s eyes went to the door to the dining room. “You mean to tell me that’s not wine? Dane’s blood?”

  Angie watched as he closed his eyes. He slapped one hand on the table, and a little coffee sloshed out of the cup. She could hear his calm but forced breathing. Angie sounded just like that when Felicia forced her to go to yoga classes. Like a freight train.

  He opened his eyes and stared directly through her. “Tell me he’s alive. I need to be able to make amends. To make up for everything I’ve done to him.”

  * * * *

  Angie and Estebe took Dom outside to get away from the group. Seven of the band had stayed over—well, six now, with Dane in the hospital. But it could have been thirty for all the demands these people had. She’d told them that her crew would handle the kitchen duties, but if they wanted laundry or housekeeping or, more likely, bartending duties, they were on their own. Felicia was making up a breakfast casserole with Matt and Hope’s help. They’d moved the dining room table into a second living room and set up a juice bar and coffee station. When Bailey had come into the kitchen looking for someone to unpack her suitcase so she could find clothes for the day, Angie had bit the girl’s head off.

  “I still can’t believe she thought someone would go through all her luggage just to find a scarf she’d forgotten to hold back.” Angie threw a ball out into the grass that was blanketed in a light snow. “I’m hoping the sheriff comes back and lets us all go just do I don’t have to put up with seeing her confused face anymore.”

  “I do not believe anyone has ever talked to her with that tone in her life.” Estebe picked up the wet ball where Dom had dropped it by his feet. Her dog was an equal opportunity sharer of his drool-soaked toys.

  “I know, I should be more empathetic.” Angie rubbed her shoulder, where she was most definitely getting a knot.

  “I did not say that. We have princesses in our family as well. My brother’s children believe that they are special. So when they come to visit from California, they get the full treatment. And, even though they are special, at least
in my eyes, they learn that being special is more about having a positive attitude rather than being treated as better than others.”

  Angie studied her sous chef. She was pretty sure he came from money, but you’d never know it. He came to work and did his job. He was the first to volunteer to clean the grease trap or redesign a recipe. He liked what he did. Which was a good thing because it really wasn’t about the money Angie paid him. “Well, all we can hope for is that they all will be out of here sooner rather than later.”

  Estebe looked up at the sky. “Sooner would be better; otherwise, they may not get out of here until the storm passes.”

  “What storm?”

  Estebe pointed up to the darkening sky by the mountains. Just then, the wind picked up and started blowing snow their way. She didn’t know if it was new snow or just pieces the wind had picked up, but it felt like the temperature had just dropped by ten degrees. Or more.

  She glanced at her phone. Maybe she should call the sheriff and see when he was planning on coming back.

  She picked up her phone and dialed. No one answered, but since her call failed, it didn’t surprise her. She stared at Estebe. “I don’t think our hosts are going anywhere. Not now.”

  Chapter 4

  Cliff was chattering in the kitchen when they went back inside a few minutes later. “Oh, good, there you are. We need to stay together.”

  Angie pulled off her coat and glanced at Felicia. “Don’t get worked up. It’s just a snow storm. They happen all the time up here. We’ll stay inside unless Dom needs out.”

  Cliff rubbed a hand over his face. The guy looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. “No wonder the sheriff said he wouldn’t be here for a while. The snow closed the roads in town. We’re a little west of town, so we should be seeing the start of the storm soon.”

  “It’s here.” Angie confirmed Cliff’s announcement. “So the sheriff called you and said he wasn’t coming? Doesn’t that mean you all can’t leave?”