by Sarah Fox
My heart ached terribly for Linnea and for Marcie’s family. I wanted to do something to help Linnea, but I doubted anything would ease her suffering. Maybe I could take her some flowers, though, so she’d know that she and Marcie were in my thoughts.
I hung around the Inkwell for a while, since the pub was receiving some deliveries that morning, but I knew I’d have time to spare later in the morning. Once the delivery trucks had come and gone and everything was where it was meant to be, I set off for the flower shop, crossing the village green on foot. The signs of spring were just as abundant as they’d been the day before, with birdsong and the scent of flowers in the air. Somehow I appreciated the beauty around me even more than usual, probably because Marcie’s death had reminded me how quickly and unexpectedly life could be snatched away.
When I reached Hillview Road on the south side of the green, I decided to make a brief stop on my way to the florist. My best friend, Shontelle, owned a gift shop on Hillview Road and I wanted to see if she was available for a brief chat. The store was open, but when I peeked through the large display window, I couldn’t spot any customers.
The bell above the door jingled cheerily as I stepped inside. Classical music played softly and tiny rainbows danced on the floor, cast there by the morning light that was shining through some crystal vases by the window. Aside from the soft music, the store was still and silent, but not for long. By the time I’d taken a few steps deeper into the shop, Shontelle had appeared from the back room. She had a bright smile on her face, but when she saw me her expression changed to one of concern.
She hurried over and pulled me into a hug. “I heard the news.”
I blinked back tears as I returned the hug, not wanting to cry. “It was terrible,” I said as I stepped back. “Her scream was blood-chilling and then . . .”
“You were there? I didn’t know that!” She hugged me again, giving me a squeeze before letting go. “I’m so sorry, Sadie. How awful! Do you want to stay for a bit? I could make you a cup of tea or coffee.”
“Thanks,” I said with a sad smile, “but I’d better get going. I want to buy some flowers for Linnea and drive them over to the manor before the Inkwell opens.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I’ll get in touch with all the other members of the romance book club. Maybe they’ll want to go in together on a nice bouquet, or maybe a gift basket.”
I had to fight back fresh tears. “I know she’ll appreciate that too.”
“We should do something fun,” Shontelle said. “Get your mind off of Marcie’s death for a while.”
“You’re working,” I reminded her.
“I was thinking tomorrow,” she clarified. “I could ask my mom to watch the store for a while and we could go shopping for our masquerade dresses.”
“That does sound like fun.”
“So we’re on?”
“Definitely,” I said, already looking forward to the outing.
After another hug from Shontelle and a promise to meet up the next day, I left the store and followed Sycamore Street to Briar Road. Like the Treasure Chest, the flower shop was quiet and empty of customers when I arrived. That wasn’t surprising since it was midweek and not during any of Shady Creek’s many festivals and events. Once the weekend hit, the tour buses would arrive and all of the businesses in town would see an increase in customers. As much as I loved and appreciated my regular customers at the pub, the Inkwell—like most other businesses in town—relied on tourists to stay afloat.
I greeted Yolanda, the shop’s owner, and told her what I was looking for.
“Feel free to look around at the bouquets already made up,” she said, “but I can always put something together for you too.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I think I’ll browse a bit first.”
A display of beautiful bouquets had drawn my eye, so I headed that way. The shop smelled so good, and all the beautiful flowers perked up my mood, despite the sad reason for my trip to the store.
As I was browsing, the shop’s door opened. I didn’t turn around to see who’d arrived until I heard a woman’s voice.
“Morning, Yolanda. Mind if I put one of these up in the window?”
“Of course not. Go right ahead,” Yolanda said.
Jan Finch, the plumber I’d seen out at the manor, taped a sheet of paper to the inside of one of the front windows, careful not to block the view of the flowers on display.
As soon as she had the paper secured to the glass, Jan called out her thanks and disappeared out the door.
“Is she advertising her plumbing business?” I asked.
“The cat shelter,” Yolanda replied. “She and her mom run it out at their farm. Jan’s plumbing jobs pay the bills, but helping out cats in need is her true passion.”
“That’s great that she and her mom do that,” I said as I selected a pretty bouquet of white roses, lavender stock, and purple waxflower. I carried my selection over to the counter.
“I think so too.” Yolanda rang up my purchase. “I’ve got three cats at home. Two of them came from Jan’s shelter.”
I slid my credit card out of my wallet. “I’ve just got one, but I love him to bits. I’d be lonely all on my own.”
“I know what you mean. After my divorce, I thought I might go crazy living in my house all alone. My sister gave me a kitten and after that I was so much happier. I’m sure there are some people who think I’m a crazy cat lady, but my little fur babies have added so much good to my life.”
“Wimsey’s done the same for me.”
After I’d finished paying for the bouquet, I thanked Yolanda and headed back across the village green to the pub’s small parking lot, where I kept my car. My mood had improved since I’d first set out that morning, but as I turned my car in the direction of Shady Creek Manor, I became more subdued again.
I wondered if the police would still be at the hotel. I also wondered if they had any idea who had killed Marcie and why.
One of my questions got answered as soon as I pulled into the driveway. The yellow police tape that had cordoned off the scene of Marcie’s death when I left the manor the day before was now gone, but a single police car was parked near the front steps.
I drove past the hotel and parked in the lot behind the screen of trees. At least it wasn’t raining today, so the bouquet wouldn’t get damaged on my way inside. With the flowers in hand, I climbed out of my car, smoothed down my hair, and then made my way around to the front door, averting my eyes from the spot where Marcie had died. If there were still bloodstains on the pavement, I didn’t want to see them. My memories from the day before were already far too vivid. Even without looking that way, I had to squash down a rising sense of panic as I climbed the stairs to the front door.
Pausing before entering the hotel, I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The upsetting events of the day before were getting the better of me and I wanted to regain control of my emotions before going inside. My plan was to leave the flowers at the front desk for Linnea, but I didn’t want to be shaking like a leaf when I entered the lobby.
After another deep breath of fresh air, I steadied my nerves and pulled open the door.
Gemma Honeywell was seated behind the reception desk, so I headed straight toward her. When she glanced up from the computer and saw me approaching, she stood up with a smile.
“Morning, Sadie,” she said. “How are you doing today?”
“I’m all right, considering,” I replied. “How are you and your husband holding up?”
Her smile faltered. “It’s difficult, of course, but we’re doing the best we can in the circumstances.”
“Any word from the police on their investigation?” I asked, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.
“Not a word,” she said, and I sensed she was a bit miffed by that. “Several of our guests checked out early because of what happened. I suppose I can’t blame them, but I do wish the police would give us some reassuring news.”
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sp; I wondered if she was only concerned about the killer getting caught for the sake of her business. I couldn’t tell, so I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.
I gestured to the flowers. “I brought these for Linnea. How’s she doing?”
Gemma lowered her voice. “She’s devastated, naturally. We’re trying to make sure she’s as comfortable as possible, but . . .” She trailed off as her attention drifted toward something over my shoulder.
When I turned around, Linnea was coming along the hallway that led from the dining room. Several wispy strands of hair had come loose from her updo and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked as though she’d aged ten years overnight. My heart ached for her and I wished there were something I could do to ease her grief.
A fleeting, ghost of a smile touched Linnea’s face when she noticed me, but it was a sad one, and it made my heart ache even more.
“Sadie, it’s good to see you again,” she said.
“I stopped by to bring these to you.” I held up the flowers and she took them with another hint of a smile.
“That’s so kind of you.”
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Hanging in there,” she said, clutching the flowers. She turned her attention to the bouquet. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”
“I’ll fetch you a vase,” Gemma said, slipping out from behind the reception desk and disappearing down a corridor.
“Will you join me for a cup of tea in my suite?” Linnea asked.
“I don’t want to bother you,” I said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you.”
“That’s very sweet of you and it’s no bother. Actually, I’d appreciate the company. I’ve been spending too much time alone with my thoughts.”
“In that case, I’d love to.”
Gemma returned with a pretty purple-tinted glass vase. I carried it for Linnea as we headed up the curving stairway. When Linnea led the way into her room, I followed for a few steps before stopping and staring at my surroundings. Linnea had a suite rather than a single room, and we’d entered a beautiful sitting room with antique furnishings, plush carpet underfoot, and French doors that led out onto a balcony with sweeping views of the hotel’s lush green grounds.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Linnea said. She must have noticed my wide eyes. “Gemma and Brad have done a lovely job with the place.”
I had to agree as Linnea took the vase from me and headed around a corner. I heard running water a second later and she soon reappeared with the flowers arranged nicely in the vase. She set the bouquet on an antique side table that sat next to a beautiful settee upholstered in blue damask fabric.
Linnea disappeared around the corner again, and when I took a few steps farther into the room, I realized there was a small alcove with a quartz countertop and a sink. A kettle, a coffeepot, and a basket of tea bags sat on the counter along with two cream-colored mugs. Linnea offered me my choice of tea or coffee, and I decided to go with tea, remembering how much Booker’s orange spice blend had soothed me the day before. Linnea didn’t have that particular flavor, but we were both happy with orange pekoe. Once we both had steaming mugs full of tea with cream and sugar added to it, we settled on the gorgeous settee. I silently warned myself to be careful. I’d be horrified if I spilled tea on the beautiful upholstery.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about the police investigation?” Linnea asked.
“No, I haven’t. Are they keeping you in the loop?”
“If they are, they haven’t had much to report. They told me yesterday that they believed Marcie was pushed out the window after some sort of struggle.” Tears pooled in Linnea’s eyes. She produced a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at the tears before continuing. “They had so many questions about Marcie and who might have wanted to harm her. I had no answer to that question. Marcie didn’t suffer fools gladly and sometimes she could come across as a bit of a smart aleck, but that’s no reason to hurt her.”
She paused, taking a moment to steady her emotions. “The police contacted Marcie’s family. I spoke to her parents too. It was terribly difficult, but I felt it was something I had to do. I considered Marcie a dear friend as well as my assistant. Her poor parents have already been through so much. Her father was very ill last year and now they’ve lost their only child.” Fresh tears welled in Linnea’s eyes and this time a couple escaped down her cheeks before she could wipe them away. “I just don’t understand why this happened.”
“I don’t either. Did she give any indication that something was wrong yesterday?”
“No. She had a headache coming on, but other than that she seemed fine.” Linnea’s forehead creased. “That’s another thing that doesn’t make any sense. Marcie said she was going to lie down because of her migraine, so what was she doing up on the third floor? She was staying in the room right next to this one.”
“I wish I had answers for you,” I said, truly meaning it. The confusion seemed to be adding to Linnea’s grief. “Hopefully the police will solve the case quickly.”
“I hope so too.” Linnea sighed before taking a sip of her tea.
“Are you still planning to stay in Shady Creek for a while?” I wouldn’t have blamed her if she wanted to head home as soon as possible.
“I’m going to stay for at least a few more days, in case the police need any more information about Marcie. I’m the only person in Shady Creek who knew her.”
That was true, so why had someone killed her?
Chapter 8
As much as I would have liked to ask Linnea more questions about Marcie, to see if I could uncover any possible reason why she was killed, I didn’t have the heart to do it. I didn’t want to add to her distress. Now that Linnea’s assistant had been murdered, I was more curious than ever about Eleanor Grimes’s claim that Marcie had a shady past. I didn’t consider Eleanor a particularly trustworthy source of information, since she seemed to be motivated by spite more than anything else, but I couldn’t help but wonder what it was she’d referred to. There was no way I was going to ask Linnea about that, though. Even if Marcie hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have followed that line of questioning. Linnea had most definitely not appreciated Eleanor’s comment and I didn’t want to shatter the rapport I’d established with the author.
I kept my curiosity in check as we finished our tea, sticking to the less distressing topic of our favorite books. We discovered that we both enjoyed mysteries by Louise Penny and thrillers by Ruth Ware. Linnea also shared my admiration for Mary Stewart and Agatha Christie.
By the time we’d finished our tea, Linnea seemed calmer. When I got up to leave a few minutes later, she thanked me profusely for my visit, assuring me that it had done her a lot of good. I was glad of that, but as I descended the front staircase, my hand sliding along the polished banister, I couldn’t help but wish that I could do more for her.
Ever since moving to Shady Creek, I’d developed a habit of getting wrapped up in murder investigations. My irrepressible curiosity made it hard for me to sit back and stay focused on my own life when people I knew and cared about were affected by an unsolved mystery. I hadn’t yet made any conscious plans to try to solve the mystery of Marcie’s murder, but when I spotted Brad Honeywell behind the reception desk in the lobby, my inner sleuth perked up.
Marcie had argued with Brad the day before her death. I wished I knew why they’d argued. Maybe Marcie was displeased about service at the hotel.
No, that didn’t strike me as right. I didn’t hear much of what they’d said to each other, but I did recall Marcie telling Brad to stay away from her. That didn’t sound like she had a problem with the hotel. That sounded personal.
I was still making my way down the stairs when Gemma appeared in the lobby. She said something to Brad that I couldn’t hear and they both ducked into the office behind the reception desk. I was glad I’d worn flats instead of high heels that day. It was far easier to move quietly a
cross the lobby’s marble floor. I crept up to the reception desk and strained to hear what was going on in the office. I could hear muffled voices, but I couldn’t make out any words.
After glancing around to make sure I was alone in the lobby, I slipped around the desk and moved silently right up to the office door. I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, and I almost forced myself to turn my back on the office door and march straight out of the hotel, but the words I picked up in the next moment kept me rooted to the spot.
“I don’t have an alibi,” Brad said. He sounded tense, on edge.
“What does that matter?” Gemma asked with a hint of exasperation. “You shouldn’t need one. It’s not like you had a reason to kill poor Marcie.”
“That’s true,” Brad said, almost too quietly for me to hear.
I couldn’t see him to read his expression or body language, but I suspected by the tone of his voice that he was still worried, despite what his wife had said.
“Did Marcie say anything to you before she died?” he asked.
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Me, maybe.”
“No.” Suspicion colored Gemma’s next words. “Why would she?”
“No reason,” Brad said quickly.
“Something made you ask me that.” Gemma’s voice held a definite note of irritation now. “What’s going on, Brad?”
“Nothing! She ordered room service the other day and thought it should have been faster. She complained to me and I told her the meal was on the house. That’s all.”
I strongly suspected that wasn’t what they’d argued about.
“Eavesdropping, are we?”
I spun around at the sound of the female voice, my heart leaping into my throat.
