by Diane Weiner
“Must miss your friends. It’s hard to make new ones once you hit a certain age,” said Buzz. He turned to Susan. “Maybe you can convince your friends to move back home with you. This cold weather is hard on your health. The elderly can be wiped out by a simple flu. Immune systems aren’t what they were when you were younger.”
“Our immune systems are in top shape, but we appreciate your concern. We’ve both got a lot of years ahead of us,” said Emily. “You won’t convince us to sell our place.”
Buzz said, “You two are crazy old goats. How can you pass up the money Peewee is offering to buy your house? We could both sell, make a hefty profit, and move back to civilization.”
“As long as you two hold out, Peewee won’t buy our place. They need both lots in order to build the Tiny House community they envision,” Kiki continued. “You’d have enough to rent a cabin up here and get yourselves a nice place back home.”
“It’s not about the money,” said Emily.
Henry said, “We need to be getting back. See you two around.”
Susan heard Buzz mumble “selfish goats” under his breath before starting up the snowmobile and speeding away.
“What was that all about?” said Susan.
“They’re trying to bully us into selling,” said Henry. “A fruitless endeavor, but if they want to keep hitting a brick wall, let them scrape up their knuckles.”
Chapter 5
Susan dragged her weary body into the shower. A bruise was developing on the heel of her hand where she’d tried to break her fall earlier. The scraped skin burned when the water hit it, but all in all, the shower was restorative. She was ready for a cozy dinner at the inn.
Mike knocked on the bathroom door. “Come on; they made a reservation for six o’clock. And I need to jump in the shower too.”
Susan wrapped herself in the fluffy guest towel and came out, freezing in spite of the stuffy heat pouring from the radiator. She gave Mike a playful flash, opening and closing the towel.
“Hmm. Now you’re trying to make us late.” He wrapped his arms around her and gave her an enthusiastic kiss. “Later, beautiful.”
After nearly forty years together, Mike always erases my stretch marks and wrinkles from my self-image. I’m the luckiest lady in the world, getting my confidence boosted by my own personal cheerleader every time I start to fret about my aging body.
Henry knocked on the guest room door. “Are you about ready? The inn fills up on a Saturday night. We don’t want to lose our reservation.”
“We’ll be out in a minute,” said Susan. She pulled on black pants and a teal sweater, which everyone said made her eyes pop from behind her bifocals.
Henry parked the Jeep in front of the inn just at the stroke of six. Most tables were already full when Coralee greeted them at the door.
“I’m so glad you came tonight. I made my famous apple strudel for dessert. Emily, are you doing okay? Have the police gotten any leads about Martha’s murder?”
“We haven’t heard anything yet. I hope they catch whoever did this and lock him away for life.”
The dining area glowed with table candles and strategically placed tea lights. A golden orange log crackled in the fireplace.
“This has to be the coziest restaurant I’ve ever been to,” said Susan. She could smell the fresh-baked bread when a waiter carrying a napkin-covered straw basket brushed past her.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Coralee showed them to a table in front of lattice-paned double doors. Soft floodlights washed the patio in a pink glow. In summer months, diners often opted to eat al fresco while overlooking a small golf course.
“Oh no,” said Emily. “Look, there’s Morgan and her husband Gerald. She’s the professor who thinks I took her husband’s job. Such a sourpuss always. I’m surprised to see them out of the house. Mostly they live like hermits. Watch. She won’t say hello when they pass us.”
Morgan looked like a hippie-era holdout. A paisley, floor-length caftan peeked out from under her faded denim coat. Susan imagined her frizzy, shoulder-length curls adorned with a crown of daisies, but instead, Morgan wore a knitted cap, which tied under the chin like a baby bonnet. gypsy-like gold hoops hung from her ears, completing the ensemble.
Susan whispered to Emily, “She’s a great candidate for Ambush Makeover.”
Emily giggled. “Too bad that show, What Not to Wear, isn’t still on TLC. Stacy and Clinton would have a field day.”
“Come on, ladies. I thought you both graduated from high school already,” said Henry.
Coralee led Morgan and Gerald toward their seats, pausing when they passed Emily and Henry’s table.
Emily said, “Hello, Morgan and Gerald. Nice to see you two out and about on a Saturday night. These are our friends, Susan and Mike Wiles, from New York.”
Gerald grunted and shook their hands. Susan, looking at his balding gray hair and slumped posture, guessed he was in his sixties.
“Nice to meet you,” said Morgan. “Is your friend looking for a college teaching position too? Should I be worried?”
“Come on, Morgan. I’d never even heard of St. Edwards until after Gerald’s position was advertised. I wish you could get past that.”
Henry said, “I saw the president’s inauguration ceremony on TV. Looked like the whole university and most of the town was there. Did you go?”
“We were there from start to finish. It was lovely,” said Morgan. “Now, excuse us. I’m getting hungry.”
Coralee sat them at the next table. Susan had a direct view of both Morgan and her husband throughout the meal.
“You have to try the corn chowder,” said Emily.
“And the maple-crusted chicken breast is out of this world,” added Henry.
Following their friend’s suggestions, Mike and Susan ordered. Then the waiter went to Morgan and Gerald’s table.
“Guys, look,” Susan whispered, discreetly pointing. “Why is Gerald pulling out his credit card? They haven’t even ordered yet.”
Henry grabbed a hot roll from the basket. “The man’s a little off. I can’t imagine him teaching.”
“Morgan is holding his wrist. She must be telling him to put it away,” said Emily. “Ah, here’s our soup. Let’s eat.”
As Susan was eating, she noticed Coralee’s son, Noah, tiptoeing past the front desk and up the stairs which Susan knew led to his room. He was dressed all in black and carried the same backpack she’d seen in his room the other night. Why is he sneaking around in his own place? And what’s with the funeral garb? Young man on a Saturday night. Surely not date attire.
“How’s the chicken?”
Mike swallowed and said, “Henry, this is amazing.”
“And it’s heart healthy to boot,” said Susan. “Baked, not fried.”
Mike gave her that familiar “stop being the food police” look.
“Are you feeling okay since your heart attack?” said Emily.
“Just fine. I’ve lost a few pounds, and I take walks almost daily. This heart will be ticking for many a moon.”
At the next table, Gerald stood up and put his napkin on his plate. Morgan stood up too, put her hands on his shoulders, and sat him back down. Then she whispered something in his ear. They didn’t appear to be arguing. Morgan is very gentle when she touches him, Susan thought. I wonder if he’s ill.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a screaming woman in a cocktail dress entered the dining room, running up to Coralee.
“It’s gone! My diamond necklace is gone. I left it on the dresser while I took a shower. I came out, and it wasn’t there. We were getting ready for the alumni reunion at St. Edwards. As it is, we’re going to miss it.”
Coralee spoke softly. “Calm down. Are you sure it’s gone? Did you look under the bed? Maybe it fell behind the dresser.”
“No, no. I’m positive it’s gone. It belonged to my mother. It was there before my shower. Look, ask my husband.”
A handsome man in a tailored
suit stepped into the dining room. “I called the police. They want us to come down to the station and file a report. I already called Uber.”
Uber? Susan wondered. Car service up here in wilderness country? Who would have thought? I’ll bet it makes Kiki and Buzz feel more at home.
Coralee escorted the upset guests to the lobby.
“A robbery here at the inn? Does that happen often?” asked Susan.
Emily said, “Not that I’ve heard of.”
Henry said, “It’s a safe little community, perhaps too safe. People don’t even lock their doors around here. False sense of security.”
Coralee returned to the dining room and chatted with the diners, going from table to table.
“That Coralee has a knack for this,” said Susan. “I’m sure she’s upset about the robbery, yet she comes right back in with a smile on her face and a heaping dose of hospitality.”
Coralee walked over to their table.
Emily said, “Coralee, are you okay?”
Coralee said, “I’m sincerely hoping she just misplaced the necklace. Looks like you enjoyed your dinner!”
“I’d have licked the plate if it wouldn’t have embarrassed my tablemates,” said Mike.
“I hope you saved room for dessert. Hot apple strudel with homemade vanilla bean ice cream.”
“We’re in,” said Henry.
“Coralee, have you had any other problems with theft lately? Must be hard with strangers coming in and out. Who knows if you can trust all of them?”
“For years I haven’t had one instance of robbery. In the past few months, this is the third time. One guest had jewelry stolen while she and her husband were out on the slopes. They swear their door was locked. Another guest had cash missing from his wallet. I tell every guest we have a safe to lock away valuables, but no one ever takes me up on the offer.”
Henry said, “Unless you’ve had a guest who has been here that long, it has to be someone who lives in town.”
“Kiki and Buzz Montaldo are the only newcomers other than yourselves. I’ll remind the guests to lock their doors and take advantage of the safe. If it gets out that we have theft problems, it will kill my business.”
When every last crumb of dessert had been eaten, the foursome pushed away from the table and stepped into the lobby. The door opened, and Coralee’s son, Noah, walked in. This time, he was dressed in a nice pair of dark-wash jeans, a red pullover sweater, and a wool coat. Coralee stepped into the lobby when she saw her son.
“Noah, did you have fun on your date tonight?” asked Coralee. She turned to Susan and Mike. “You remember my son, Noah, from the other night. He just got back from a hot date.”
“Yes, of course. Nice to see you again,” said Mike.
Susan said, “I remember. So where do guys take dates in this town if it isn’t here to eat at the inn?”
Noah fumbled. “We, um, went out for a night hike along the lake.”
“Pretty cold out there, isn’t it?” said Susan.
“That’s the point, right, Noah?” Mike gave him a high five.
Why is Noah lying? Susan wondered. I know I saw him sneak in wearing black less than an hour ago. Unless he has a twin, it’s impossible that he just now came home.
Henry pulled his keys from his coat pocket. “Ready to go? Coralee, thanks for yet another wonderful meal.”
Chapter 6
“Shh, Mike. They’ll hear us,” said Susan. Mike was grabbing her under the quilt in the white wrought iron bed.
“Their bedroom is all the way upstairs in the loft. No one but the cat will hear us, and he’s not talking. Besides, exercise is good for my heart.”
“Well, if you put it like that…” She began kissing him.
“Knock, knock. Breakfast is ready,” said Henry.
Susan whispered, “See.”
“To be resumed later,” she whispered to her husband, then louder, “Henry, we’ll be right out.”
Emily was mixing pancake batter with fresh blueberries when they walked into the kitchen. Susan breathed in the coffee aroma.
“Grab a mug. It’s freshly ground vanilla coffee,” said Emily. “Sugar and creamer are already on the table.”
“Local maple syrup too,” said Henry. “Wait till you try it.”
The pancakes melted in Susan’s mouth. She hoped they couldn’t tell she was drooling over them. Mike ate with gusto.
“Susan, I was going to drop by the college this morning. The police said they’re finished working the crime scene, and I want to straighten up my office before classes resume tomorrow. Want a tour of the campus?”
“I’d love it.”
“Mike and I will meet you over there,” said Henry.
Emily grabbed her briefcase and took Susan over to her office. They parked in front of Emily’s office building.
“Let’s go,” said Susan. Emily was still grasping the steering wheel. “Are you okay? We don’t have to go in today. Let’s turn around and visit some antique stores or something.”
“No, I’ll be okay.” She took a deep breath. “I want to get this over with. I have to teach a class tomorrow, so I’d better get a grip now.”
Susan grabbed Emily’s elbow, and together they went into the building. Emily searched in her purse, took out her keys, and dropped them before she could unlock the door.
“I’m such a klutz.”
Susan noticed Emily’s hands trembling. “I’ll get them.” When she reached down to pick up the keys, she saw an earring caught under the door. “Emily, is this yours?”
“No. That’s a bit too over-the-top artsy for my taste.” The earring had a feather on the end and colored beads strung through the wire.
Inside, the blood puddle had dried on the floor, and the office looked as though it had been ransacked. Emily’s hand tremble now swept over her entire body.
“Let’s go home,” said Susan. “We can call someone to clean this up now that the police are done here.”
A balding, middle-aged gentleman in a blue pea coat walked into the office.
“Emily, are you okay?”
“Yes, Joe. I will be.”
“I still can’t believe Martha is dead. Everyone loved her. I just don’t get who would do such a thing.”
“Me neither.”
Susan said, “They were probably after Emily. It is her office, and she and Martha sort of look alike from the back. She has to be careful. The killer might try again.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said the man. “Don’t worry. I’ve got her back.”
“Susan, this is Joe Sommers. He’s a colleague of mine, becoming a fast friend.”
“Nice to meet you, Susan. I’ve been here at St. Edwards a dozen years already, so I’ve been showing Emily the ropes.”
“He’s been a great help getting me oriented. Joe, how was the inauguration ceremony?”
“A little long but fine. Lots of pomp and circumstance, promises for the future, words of inspiration—you know the routine. Thing is, I feel guilty.”
“Why?” asked Emily.
“If I’d stayed here in my office, I could have helped you. Maybe I’d have heard the intruder, or if the floor hadn’t been deserted, maybe the killer would have turned around and left.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but let go of that. There’s nothing you should have done differently. If I had gone to the ceremony… If Martha hadn’t asked me to look over her paper…”
“You can’t live life with what ifs,” said Susan.
Joe gave Emily a hug. “Anything you need, you know I’m here. Nice to meet you Susan.”
After Joe left, Susan said, “He seems like a nice man. Is he from Vermont?”
“No, I think he said he grew up in Ohio. He worked at a small college in Columbus before coming here.” Emily picked up items from the floor and began straightening up her desk.
“We need bleach to get this blood up. Is there a custodian around?”
“Yes, his office is at the
end of the hall.”
Susan found the supplies she needed and returned to Emily’s office, where her friend was frantically searching through her filing cabinet drawers. Folders were strewn across the floor.
“Emily, what’s wrong?”
“My tapes! I have hours’ worth of audiotapes I’m using for my book. I kept them in here, and now they’re gone.”
“Maybe the police moved them when they were working the crime scene.”
“I doubt it. The filing cabinet hadn’t been disturbed. All the drawers were shut last time I was in here. I had interview recordings with people who knew Ashley Young, people who saw her on campus before she disappeared, her parents. Now they’re gone. Hours’ worth of work.”
“Who would want to steal them? Do you think it was a student who thought the tapes contained test questions?”
“No, they were clearly labeled.”
Just then, Detective Wooster knocked on the partially open door. “Sorry to disturb you. Your husband said I could find you here.”
“Detective, I just discovered some audiotapes are missing from my filing cabinet. Did the police take them for evidence?”
“No, ma’am. We didn’t actually remove items, just took samples and photos.”
Susan remembered the earring. “Detective, I found this stuck under the door when we came in this morning.” She handed the earring to the detective, who shrugged his shoulders and sealed it in a small baggie.
“Did you find out who killed Martha?” asked Emily.
“Not yet, but we will. Can you tell me who normally has offices on his floor?”
“Me, of course. And Martha did. Also Joe Sommers, my colleague. Erica Satz is on this floor, but she’s away on sabbatical this semester. The custodian has his office at the end of the hall. There are some adjunct instructors who share an office.”
“How many?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe four or five. They all teach basic English comp. Martha was the coordinator.”
“Were any of them around the day Martha was killed?”
“I vaguely remember one of them in Martha’s office arguing about something––I think course-related.”
