by Traci Wilton
“I was at the pier, drunk and stupid. Pissed.” His knee jounced, shaking the table. “She showed up, out of it. Slurring. Off-balance. She kept on about the spell and Alaric missing.” He paused. “I made sure she got home.”
“Does she know that?”
“I told her but she thinks I’m trying to protect her and lying for her.” He tugged at his reddish hair curling past his ears. “That’s really how it happened. As an employee for the museum, I have the code to unlock the gate for the House of the Seven Gables and we waited under the trees there until the police came by. I knew I had to get her to the vineyard so I flagged down a ride and paid cash.”
Charlene sank back against the cushion with a groan. “No trace that you were together or have an alibi.”
“Which is now biting me in the butt, but when you’re panicked and drunk you don’t think so clear. I had no idea Alaric was dead.” Dru scrubbed his stubbly cheek with his palm.
“Can I get you lunch?” Charlene waved to a passing waitress. “What are your specials?”
“Lobster club.”
She looked at Dru, who nodded.
“We’ll take two of those with fries and a beer, okay?”
Dru nodded again. “Sam Adams.”
“Good for me too.”
The waitress hurried off.
Charlene kept her attention on Dru. “Now. How do I know that you and Serenity didn’t kill Alaric?” Serenity had been covering for Dru the whole investigation.
He straightened in shock. “S’cuse me?”
“What was Serenity wearing when she arrived at the pier?”
“Oh. Uh, her costume from earlier. The velvet cape kept us both warm.”
“Did she still have a star sapphire?” She watched him for signs of evasion, but he seemed aboveboard.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It was an expensive necklace on a gold chain. Dark blue, white striations in the center.”
“No. Not that I remember.”
“Alaric gave it to her. I can’t imagine her taking it off.” Serenity still in her costume confirmed that she’d been at Alaric’s but bolted.
The waitress brought their food and drinks and left again, running her tail off on a Friday lunch hour.
“Hey, you said that you used a code to get into the private grounds . . . Will there be a record of that?”
Dru raised his bottle. “I can check with our security people once I’m back to work. I’ve been out on personal leave the last week. I’m due in tomorrow, but I’m terrified the cops will be waiting for me.” He exchanged his Sam Adams for his club sandwich, taking a large, hungry bite. “I thought for sure the killer would be caught by now and I’d be off the hot seat.”
Charlene broke a fry in half. “See if you can track down the driver you hired to bring Serenity home. It will at least give you a time marker to share with the police.”
“Good idea. When did he die?”
“Alaric’s body was found Saturday morning. We don’t know the time of death.”
“Serenity’s been filling me in, but we have to be careful ’cause the police are watching her. There’s no phone or internet at Grandma’s place.”
He was alone with nobody to vouch for him, besides Serenity, also under suspicion. She could understand why he was nervous. Charlene raised her head and set her sandwich down. “When you were at Alaric’s that night, did you go through the whole house?”
“Yeah.” He followed a bite of sandwich with a swallow of beer.
“What was in the basement?” She and Brandy hadn’t made it down below.
“I think someone was living there.”
Asher, probably. “What did you see?”
“Besides a bunch of drugs and clothes tossed everywhere? There was a coffin—open, and a stack of crates filled with stuff. Packing crates. No pictures or anything personal.” He sneered. “It was a flophouse.”
“Was there a fireplace?”
“Yeah. Not lit. Old-fashioned.” He dabbed mayo from his mouth.
“Did you see a door or entrance into a tunnel?”
Dru dropped a fry to his plate in disbelief. “What?”
“You know,” Charlene said, sipping her beer. This was not a bad club sandwich and she’d add it to her list of recommendations for her guests. “The smuggling tunnels.”
“I wish they’d just shore them all up.” Dru’s eyes narrowed. “Nope. No strange entrance leading into the abyss that I noticed.” His smile was derisive. “There’s a lot of myth around the smuggling tunnels. Just be careful not to buy into it. There’s no hidden treasure buried by pirates.”
Charlene’s cheeks heated. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She blew on a hot fry. “You should speak with Detective Holden. Do you want me to go with you to the station?”
“No. That place gives me the creeps. I wanted to tell them about the drugs and the blood, but they just wanted me to confess.” Dru polished off his beer and his lunch like he wanted to get out of there. Fast. “I didn’t kill Alaric. When Serenity was at the pier, she had clean hands—I mean, no blood or bruises. She doesn’t even know for sure how Alaric died. There were no defensive marks on her.”
“He had a stake through the chest.”
“That was in the news.” He shuddered. “Killed as if he were a vampire. Proved to be human in the end.”
Charlene didn’t elaborate on Alaric’s troubled childhood. “What are you going to do now?”
“See if I can find the driver, like you suggested. I have to prove myself innocent—I don’t trust the police.”
“Dru.” Charlene patted his hand. “The Salem PD is very good at their jobs. Not once have I had cause to doubt them and there have been a few . . . challenges since I’ve moved here from Chicago.” She sat back. “Just so you know, I’ll have to tell the detective that I spoke with you today.”
Dru tensed with alarm. “Serenity said I could trust you.”
“You can. I know you can trust Detective Holden too.”
“Let me think about it. Thanks for lunch.” With that, Dru left the Lobster Shack and blended into the crowd.
CHAPTER 23
“Dr—” Charlene bit her lip before calling out Dru’s name. The kid was surprisingly good at disappearing into the waiting patrons around the restaurant. Speaking aloud to herself, she said, “Sam isn’t going to be happy. Between the Hawthorne Hotel and now not somehow convincing Dru to turn himself in?”
She wasn’t making any points.
Charlene waved to the waitress for the bill and while she waited, she dialed Patrick, not at all surprised that she had to leave a message asking about the tunnels. Some days were like that—walking uphill both ways in a snowstorm. The old saying from her dad made her miss her parents.
When this was over, she’d call them for a good chat.
Charlene walked to the Salem police department, leaving her Pilot in the lot by the Hawthorne Hotel.
She checked in at the front desk. “I’d like to see Detective Holden. Is he around?”
He greeted her in the sitting area ten minutes later. “Charlene—great timing. I was about to take my lunch.”
“Oh? Too bad. I just finished eating at the Lobster Shack.”
“Ah. With Kevin? How’d that go?”
“I’ve got some news for you concerning the Alaric case.”
His smile fled. “Okay. Come on back to my desk then.”
They were not friends in this instance. She wished they could find a way past this awkwardness.
He ushered her toward the seat across from his desk.
“What is it?” His brow lifted. “Does this have anything to do with the anonymous tip about the Hawthorne Hotel’s basement entrance?”
“It does not,” she assured him, keeping a poker face. “I just had lunch with Dru Ormand and wanted to let you know. He called while I was with Kevin.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed.
“I asked him to speak to you and assured him
that if he wasn’t guilty, which he claims he isn’t, then he has nothing to worry about, as you are a fair man who only wants justice done.” She shifted. “For some reason he feels like you all wanted to toss him in jail when he was here to tell you about the drugs and blood at Alaric’s house.”
“When we went to inspect the house there were no drugs. Elisabeta let one of my officers in that morning. The blood in their refrigerator is not illegal.” Sam shrugged. “What else?”
“Dru says that he and Serenity were together between twelve-thirty and three. What time did Alaric die? What actually killed him—the stake?”
Sam watched her carefully.
“Fine, don’t tell me, but it might influence Dru’s decision to come in.”
He interlaced his fingers on his desk. “There’s no reason not to tell you. The coroner’s report said that Alaric died between midnight and three AM.”
That didn’t help Dru or Serenity. They were each other’s alibi, but Serenity had told her about the gaps in her memory, so that was a concern for everybody. The PD would look at the facts. Dru had threatened to kill Alaric. Serenity had a spell prepared to kill Alaric and bring him back to life.
Her shoulders slumped. “Did you speak with Elisabeta and Asher about their alibis?”
“Neither are home.” His eyes were steady on hers. She couldn’t read his mind like Brandy might, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.
“Celeste? I would think she’d be the easiest to break.”
“Thanks for telling me that. We weren’t sure who to call first.”
“I’m trying to help, Detective. No need for sarcasm.” She leaned forward, hands folded in her lap. “Did you speak with her?”
“I left a message.”
“Sam! Is that it? No arrests?”
“That’s how police work goes, Charlene. One step at a time.”
She blew out a breath. “You had a question about Orpheus?”
“Carl Stephenson? Oh, that’s right. Did you see any other jewelry in his hotel room?”
“He had some rings on. The night of the ball he was wearing platinum hoops, not the diamonds.”
He fished a folder from the stack and opened it, then nodded. “Those were in his luggage. Thanks.”
She wanted to help so badly. To end this case so that she and Sam could go back to being friends again. “I wish I could do more.”
He ran his fingers through his mustache, a familiar gesture that always got her heart humming. “Serenity Flint is very tight-lipped.” He stared at her coaxingly. “I’m sure she’d tell you things she wouldn’t the police. Have you spoken with her?”
Confession time. A chance to repair the bridge separating them.
“I have, as you might know.” Dare she tell Sam about Serenity’s memory lapse? She would lose Serenity’s trust as well as Brandy’s, and yet with Sam looking at her like this, what was she supposed to do?
“What?”
“Well . . .” Charlene hugged her purse to her lap. “I need to ask you some pointed questions before I decide if I can betray a confidence.”
Her stomach churned, but if it helped Serenity and found Alaric’s killer and Orpheus’s, she’d have to live with it.
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t you know me by now?”
“Of course I do, but this is a delicate matter. Promise me that you won’t be judgmental? That you’ll listen to her with an open mind? Even if she talks about spells or necromancy?”
“I will.” Under his mustache she noticed a hint of a smile.
Go time. “Serenity might have been drugged without her knowledge or consent . . . that’s how Alaric had control over her.”
Sam’s jaw relaxed. “Well, that’s a start. Now I can share the fact that Serenity has agreed to come in this afternoon to give another statement. She’s also given bloodwork, but I doubt we’ll find anything.”
A weight lifted. “I’m so glad.”
“She also said that you convinced her to come forward with some important information. Want to give me a hint?”
“I’d prefer you hear it from her.” Charlene released a breath. “If it goes as well as I expect it to, I’m sure she’ll convince Dru to follow suit.”
“Thank you, Charlene. I know you don’t like the sluggish pace we set there, but we must be thorough.” His expression thawed slightly.
“I should go.” She stood and gripped her purse tightly to her chest.
“I appreciate you coming by the station for this. I think it helps create a clear boundary. I’m the law.”
She nodded and left, a part of her hurting over the loss of their previous camaraderie.
* * *
Charlene went home to talk things over with Jack, but her ghost was nowhere in sight. She hoped Serenity would tell the truth and clear herself, and convince Dru to do the same. Now, she had to figure out a plan to trap Asher into making a big mistake—he wouldn’t break; she was sure of that. All signs, to her mind, pointed to the tall, lanky vampire wannabe.
Asher could have been hiding in the closet and run down the road behind Alaric’s. So what if Patrick hadn’t recognized the name as the man who’d read his book and inquired about an underground tour? At his age, he might get confused at times. She was much younger but was constantly losing her keys, forgetting things, checking in the fridge for what she didn’t know. Stress worked in mysterious ways.
Now that she and Sam were on good footing, she texted Patrick if the name Orpheus rang a bell. She’d practically convinced herself that Orpheus had killed Alaric, and so Asher had killed Orpheus out of revenge. She just had to prove it.
Kevin texted with a message that he was still waiting to hear back from his friend—she replied that she was also waiting.
If she didn’t find something to do for the next hour she’d go crazy! She pulled her note cards from her desk drawer. The front had a picture of her bed-and-breakfast on it, and inside was blank to accommodate whatever occasion arose.
She went through the list of previous guests and began thanking them for their visit, offering a 15 percent discount on future visits. By the twentieth her hand was tired. No wonder everything was done online—handwriting was time-consuming. No Jack, no Kevin, no Patrick.
By four, Charlene decided not to take being ignored personally and went to help Minnie with happy hour. “What can I do to assist?”
Minnie handed her a knife. “Slice the lemons for our sangria. We’re doing Mexican tonight.”
“Yum! What is that mouthwatering dish you’re cooking?”
Minnie bent over to take a tray out of the oven. “Mini–cheese quesadillas and beef tacos. I made the sauce earlier and I’m just keeping it warm.”
“Sounds good, smells great.” Her lobster club had worn off and she could hear her tummy rumbling. She snatched one of the steaming quesadillas and blew on it. After a sec she bit into the melty cheese and murmured her appreciation. Pointing at it as she munched over the sink, she said, “This is so good. Avery’s missing out.”
Fridays were the teen’s day off so she could hang out with her friends after school.
“It’s a new recipe I tried using jalapeño cheese. We can make them again.”
At ten to five, Charlene helped Minnie bring the trays in and put them on the side table. Both women carried the large punch bowl of sangria, without spilling a drop.
The guests began arriving in twos. Fredrick and Marjorie were dressed for fine dining. They shared they were going to a top-notch steak house.
“I’ve never been there,” Charlene told them. “I want to hear all about it when you get home.”
“Of course. We read the reviews and it’s a five-star!”
“I’m sure it is. So how are you enjoying your visit so far?”
“We’re loving it. Nothing to complain about, not even the weather. Don’t worry, Charlene, we’ll recommend this beautiful B and B to everyone.”
“I appreciate that, Marjorie. Fredrick. You should bring frien
ds with you the next time you visit.”
Charlene moved on to Jennifer and Chase. “Okay, tell me about your day. You look like you’ve been having a great time.”
“We have. Went to Plymouth Rock, which in itself is overrated, but we had so much fun in the town around it. Great little boutiques and art shops. Funky bars and vendors on the street. So cool, right, Chase?”
“Must admit, I’m not the kind of guy that likes to walk around all day, seeing a line of vendors trying to entice you in. But it wasn’t like that. Laid-back. No hassle. Great winery and brewery too.”
“Sounds awesome. It’s still on my list of things to do.” Maybe when her parents came to visit next she’d take the time to show them the sights, and experience it herself.
Glancing around to see if she’d ignored anyone, Charlene spotted Jack in a corner next to the fireplace, watching each guest. What was he thinking? He studied them as if trying to read their minds, but that was something he couldn’t do—unlike Brandy Flint.
Playing the perfect hostess, she did the circuit, making sure she spoke to each of her guests and asked about their day. They were all important to her, and yet all she wanted right now was to shoo them out so she could retire to her suite and talk to Jack.
One sangria later she made her excuses and escaped to her rooms. Her cell phone blinked from where she’d left it on the coffee table.
With a flick of Jack’s hand, he floated it toward her.
“Patrick and Kevin and Serenity?” Charlene glanced at Jack and blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ve been waiting for these calls for hours. And now all I want to do is sit with you and tell you everything that happened today.”
“I’m sorry, but you left it here and I didn’t want to interrupt you when you were busy with guests.”
“This isn’t your fault, but I’m bone-weary and just want to relax with you.”
“Return the calls, and then we can.”
She looked at the phone, then back at him. He gestured for her to go ahead.
She dialed Serenity first to make sure the girl didn’t need to get bailed out of jail, although she trusted Sam and knew he’d never do such a thing unless he had a really good reason. Still, it made Charlene glad when Serenity answered on the first ring.
