by Dale Mayer
Morning smiled to herself. She stood looking at her backyard for a long moment and then, hearing a sound, turned around. She glanced at Nancy and asked, “Did you hear that?”
Nancy shook her head, her gaze still on the red painting in front of her. “Honestly I’m not listening to anything. I swear to God this painting is talking to me.”
Morning laughed. “I thought I heard something downstairs.”
“It’s possible. You’ve got lots of people staying here.”
“But I didn’t hear the bells to announce anybody had come home yet.” Morning motioned to the door. “Let’s go refill our coffees.”
Nancy shook her head. “Hell no.” She held out her cup. “You go refill both coffees. I’ll stand here and admire your artwork.”
Laughing, yet eminently pleased at her friend’s response, Morning agreed. She grabbed the two empty cups and headed down the back stairs to the kitchen.
As she walked past her father’s room, she thought she heard another sound. Frowning, she placed the coffee cups on the kitchen table and went back. Using her key, she popped open the door and turned on the light. And froze. The bedding had been tossed on the floor, and the place appeared to be in shambles.
“What happened?” she cried in shock.
Then somebody barreled toward her, slamming her up against the hallway wall as he raced past her. Her head snapped against the wall behind her, and she cried out. The intruder tore down the hall and burst through the front door.
Sitting on the floor for a long moment, her mind tried to put together what had happened. Shaky, she pulled out her phone and texted Geir. She didn’t even question why she was contacting him and not somebody else, but she knew he was the one to call. She realized her fingers weren’t texting properly and just hit Dial. Within seconds his phone rang. When she heard his voice, she burst into tears.
“Morning, what’s the matter?”
She took several bracingly deep gulping breaths before she could form words. “There was an intruder in the house,” she said quietly, striving for a calmness she didn’t feel. “He slammed into me before he raced out the front door.”
“When? Just now?”
“Yes,” she said. “Nancy is upstairs in my studio. I came down to get more coffee and heard a noise in my father’s rooms. I unlocked the door, and he came flying at me.”
“Any idea why he was in your father’s rooms?”
“I’d say he’s looking for something, but I don’t know what. The bedding has been tossed and so has some of the furniture.”
“We’re on our way home,” Geir said quietly. “Grab your coffee, go back upstairs and lock yourself into your studio with Nancy, okay? Don’t ask questions. Just do it. We’ll be right there.”
She took another shaky breath, managing to get to her feet. She pocketed her phone, went into the kitchen, refilled the coffee cups. Mindful of his orders and never doubting the sense behind them, she hurried back upstairs to the studio. She stepped inside, put the cups down, turned and shut the door casually, locking it in the process. She gave Nancy a big smile. “Well, that was interesting.”
Nancy was still staring at the painting. She tore her gaze away from the canvas. “What’s the matter?”
Morning looked at her and sighed. “I just had a brush with an intruder.”
Nancy stared at her for a long moment and then said, “Really?”
Morning’s bottom lip trembled as she nodded. Nancy swept over, wrapped her in a hug and said, “Oh, my God! I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Morning wrapped her arms around her friend and burst into tears.
Geir drove fast. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why the hell would he be back in her father’s room?”
“He’s looking for the mouse,” Jager said. “I don’t know who this asshole is or why he’s tormenting her and us, but I swear to God he’s after the stuffed mouse.”
“It makes sense, but it’s not like there’s anything inside the mouse.” Then he turned a corner, approaching a set of traffic lights. He slowed and waited. “Or I missed something when she showed it to me,” Geir said. “I took a good look but didn’t feel anything inside, and there was no obvious stitching showing. She returned it to the hall closet, but it doesn’t make sense that it had something inside it.”
“I know. None of this makes sense,” Jager added. “We knew him as Ryan Hanson, but he only wanted to be called Mouse. So, when Mouse stepped into Ryan’s life, I guess he kept Mouse as a nickname. And, if we accept all this, then we have to accept that this Mouse we’ve been tracking is the man we trained with and worked with for a year. This same Mouse had a very strange relationship with a pedophile who likely helped Mouse forge documents to get into the navy and into the SEALs program by taking someone’s place after that person passed BUD/S training.”
“But,” Geir continued, “the pedophile had to have had connections to find out who had successfully completed BUD/S training, of which there’s very rarely more than one or two, and he’d have to know what that person’s plans were in order to take him out and put Mouse in his place.”
“It would take the right chain of events for it all to work,” Jager admitted. “The chances of getting caught? Huge.”
“And why would Poppy help Mouse?” Geir asked. “Because he’d lose Mouse then.”
“Unless he truly loved Mouse, and it was a big dream of Mouse’s, and Poppy was determined to help Mouse. And maybe, when Mouse went on leave, he went home to Poppy.”
“That’s a very sad, twisted relationship,” Geir said.
“Sure, but, at this point, Mouse was happy with it or so conditioned that he didn’t see anything wrong with it, … or he was using it to get what he wanted himself,” Jager said very slowly.
“It’s all messed up,” Geir muttered. He managed to get through the next traffic light, but the traffic got heavier. He took a quick detour, whipped around several blocks and cut a corner at another big intersection. Back on the road, and only a few blocks away from Morning’s house, he said, “I still don’t understand why whoever is doing this would have put a toy mouse into her father’s room.”
“That’s what we have to figure out. That and what relationship that person had with our Mouse and with Poppy. But I have to assume someone knows we’re here and is doing it for our sake and not hers. But how? And why?”
“The why will have something to do with our investigation. The how? I’m not sure.” Geir frowned, then shook his head. “Except Mason paid for the rooms with his credit card. … Not ours.”
Jager didn’t say anything.
But, in the back of Geir’s mind, he knew it would be easy enough to track credit cards. That this asshole might have considered Mason was involved in this case—now that was interesting. But then, along with Levi, both had been instrumental in getting them this far with their investigation. But how would anyone know—unless he was the one they were tracking. … So was Poppy their killer, discounting that the winos said otherwise? Poppy certainly loved Mouse. And had the naval connections …
“Poppy has a lot to answer for,” Geir said, “but he’s not likely to be the guy breaking into Morning’s place. She said she saw somebody running across her backyard yesterday, but didn’t think it was important enough to tell us about.”
“Why would she? Think about it. She doesn’t know us from anybody else.”
“But she does know Mason, and that is huge. Mason vouched for us. She’s willing to trust him.” Geir pulled up in front of the bed-and-breakfast. They hopped out and jogged to the front door, which was wide open. As they stepped through, a man in a suit stood there, looking around. Geir immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up. “Can I help you?”
The businessman turned to look at him. “I’m looking for Morning. I’m checking out today and need her to finish the registration form.”
Geir nodded. This had to be the single guest. “I just spoke to her on the phone. She’s probably in her studio
. I’ll be right back.” Leaving Jager here to deal with the guest, Geir walked through to the kitchen and up the back stairs. At the studio he knocked on the door. “Morning, it’s me.”
The door unlocked while he waited, and, when it opened, he took one look at her tear-stained face and sighed. He opened his arms, and she ran into them. He held her tight. “I’m so sorry. I wish that hadn’t happened.”
She nodded but didn’t say a word. Her arms were wrapped tight around him. He hugged her until she was calm enough to release him.
Then he brushed her hair off her face and smiled. “I think one of your guests is downstairs wanting to leave.”
She tried to get a more business-like look on her face and nodded. “I’ll deal with it.” She wiped her eyes and walked into her bedroom.
Nancy came to stand beside him, her gaze curious. “Is it safe to leave yet?”
He nodded. “We’re back now.”
She smiled and said, “Take good care of her.” And she ran down the stairs.
He waited until Morning came back out. Her hair was fixed up, and her face was freshly washed, so it didn’t look like she’d been ravaged by tears. It wasn’t a bad freshen-up job for having been so rushed. Maybe nobody would notice she’d been crying.
Downstairs, she walked through the hall. He kept her in his sights the whole time.
She smiled at the guest. “Time to leave, Ken?”
He nodded. “I thought I was staying tonight. I’m sorry, but I need to leave now.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to be at the airport in an hour.”
“No problem.” She filled out the paperwork, ran his credit card and handed him a receipt.
Geir and Jager sat down in the living room, where they could keep an eye on what was going on. As soon as Ken was done, he smiled, gave a nod to the two men, turned and walked out.
There was something about him. He was a little too nice. He smiled a little too friendly, or maybe it was Morning’s smile that was a little too friendly in response. Jager’s voice beside Geir pulled him out of his reverie.
“Down, boy.”
Geir stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
Jager just chuckled.
Geir hopped to his feet and asked Morning, “Who do you still have here?”
“I haven’t seen the couple all day.” She frowned. “I don’t know what they’re up to. I don’t even know for sure they came home last night,” she confessed. She stared at the staircase for a long moment, snatched up her keys and said, “I’ll knock and see if they’re here.”
“You do take people’s credit card information, so they can’t bolt and not pay you, right?”
“I precharge for one full night, and then they’re supposed to pay the balance before they leave,” she said as she walked up the stairs.
Jager wandered through the downstairs, but Geir wouldn’t let her out of his sight. “Where was Ken staying?”
She pointed to the back room on the second floor. “He was in there.”
“And where is the couple staying?”
She went down the hall. “They’re in this room.” She walked up to the door and knocked on it. No answer. She called out, “Hello, are you in there?” Still no answer. She grabbed her key and, without hesitation, unlocked the door. She pulled it open and looked inside. The bedcovers were a mess, but there was no sign of anyone. She frowned. “I don’t know what to think.”
“What do you mean? Do you think they’ve left?” Geir stepped into the room and looked around. “There’s no luggage.”
“Check the closet. Lots of people put their clothing away.”
He walked to the closet, and, sure enough, it was empty. He turned to look at her. “What’s the chance they’ve bolted on you?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s never happened before.”
“You didn’t see them today at all?”
She shook her head. “No, they were supposed to be here for two nights.”
“And they might have been because they certainly could have left today. If there’s nobody downstairs to keep track, it’s basically an honor system, isn’t it?”
She frowned at him. “Don’t you start with me too,” she scolded. “I’ve already had a tough enough day.” Depressed, she stared around the room.
He watched her.
She stepped back out of the room. “Well, I’ll wait until tomorrow. If they don’t show up, then I’ll charge the room to their credit card.”
“What are the rules that you have them sign?”
“They’re supposed to check out at eleven in the morning, but there was no sign of them this morning.” She frowned more. “But then they didn’t come for breakfast either morning.”
Geir nodded. He wondered if this was just a simple case of trying to skip out on a second night or if they were off somewhere else. The other option was, they were here for nefarious reasons and didn’t want to be seen. There was an awful lot one could get away with in a bed-and-breakfast. Somebody would have to call around to each and every bed-and-breakfast in a particular area to find out where the couple were booked. “And you said you know these two?”
She stared at him for a long moment. “They said they were here a couple years ago, that they loved it so much they came back.” She sighed. “But honestly I didn’t remember them. I did spend some time visiting with them the first day they were here, but that was just being social.”
“They could have said anything they wanted to. But what difference would it make whether you knew them or not?”
“Return visitors always get priority. And, because I am alone here, I do take some precautions. I don’t like to make reservations for people I don’t know or who don’t have references.”
“But you didn’t know Ken, did you?”
She shook her head. “No. Business hasn’t been all that great because I don’t do a ton of advertising. Generally people find me through word of mouth, and I’ve been taking them in because I’ve needed the money. So, for all I know, the couple said that so they could get in. I don’t know.”
Geir stared at her and then gave a clipped nod. “I hear you, but you need to change your system.”
She nodded sadly. “I feel like an era has just passed.”
Chapter 11
Morning certainly hadn’t been lying when she had said it felt as if an era had passed, and it wasn’t fair. She was dealing with a loss of innocence right now. A mind-set that she felt she would never regain. It also left her chilled inside. She glanced at Geir. “I guess I just learned my lesson.” She watched his gaze narrow.
He shrugged. “I’m sure being in business and stiffed for a bill is not an uncommon prospect. I’m more concerned about your safety.”
“I can understand that,” she said quietly. “I’m more than a little disturbed that people have come into my house other than to stay. It’s hard to know who would do this or why.”
“It’s possibly because of us,” he admitted. “It’s too early to tell. But we came here hunting a man, the one you know as Poppy. And a friend of ours was seen leaving Texas with him. His name was Mouse.”
She stared at him in surprise. “That’s why you’re here?”
He nodded. “Mason knows us and vouched for us because we were in the same naval unit with him. When we needed a place to stay that was close enough and that would allow us anonymity, he suggested your place.”
She nodded. “I’ve had others, his friends, come here and stay too, plus men who worked for Levi.” She frowned. “Or maybe it was for Legendary Security.”
Geir grinned. “Yes, Levi is a good friend of ours too.”
“Nice that you have friends in high places.”
“They’ve been very helpful and have assisted us in tracking down these men.”
“And why would you track them down? What have they done?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned against a doorjamb and stared at her.
She stared back calmly
. “You might not want to tell me, but, if there’s any chance this involves me or my place, then I need to know.”
He glanced around the room. “I don’t think it has anything to do with this couple or anyone else staying here …” His voice trailed off, then he added, “But …”
“There was only Ken and the couple here,” she said. “And Ken is gone now.”
His gaze zipped back toward her. “Ken. Do you know anything about him?”
“I don’t get people to fill out an occupation survey when I let them in,” she said in exasperation. “People come to San Diego for a lot of reasons. It’s not up to me to sort out why.”
“Did he ever move around the house, go into any of the spaces he wasn’t welcome in?”
She frowned. “No more than you did,” she snapped. “He came up to the studio once, but that was it.”
“Your studio, right.” He grinned. “Do I get to see the other paintings?”
Now it was her turn to shove her hands in her pockets. She shrugged. “Maybe. I do need to get up there and finish working.”
“How many have you done?”
Irritated and not sure how to get the conversation back on track, she said, “Three. And I’ll tell you what. I’ll show you my paintings, but I want the full story out of you.”
“Then how about we take a cup of coffee to your studio, and I’ll explain it. I definitely want to make sure our conversation is private, so nobody can overhear us.”
She went into the kitchen, put on yet another pot and, when it was done dripping, poured two large mugs. “Let’s go.”
It took them a few seconds to reach her studio. On the way he said, “What do you want to do about the room?”
She tossed him a look. “What do you want me to do? It’s not like I can call the police and say the visitors absconded without payment.”
“Can’t you?”
She frowned, then shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I meant, what do you want to do about your father’s rooms?”
She winced. “I’ll have to straighten everything. But after my gallery meeting.”
