by Dana Dratch
Rather than one large room, the Victorian’s basement was divided up with what looked like walls, half walls, and unfinished walls. I could barely make out what appeared to be some old furniture, too. Ian’s “bits and bobs for the inn”?
“Is someone there?” I asked, my voice cracking.
Silence.
The single lightbulb over the landing flickered.
Oh, great. Any minute, I won’t just be standing in a creepy, deserted basement. I’ll be standing in a creepy, deserted basement in the dark.
“Anybody there?” I called halfheartedly. My mouth was dry. Fear or dust, take your pick.
Nothing. Not so much as a peep from the ghost baby.
The light blinked off and on again. Longer this time. And I realized that, if I was going to see what was in the freezer, I was going to have to do it quick. Before the bulb gave out.
“Here goes nothing,” I said, putting both hands on the top of the chest and yanking it upward.
I winced.
His eyes were closed, his lashes coated with ice. He reminded me of photos I’d seen of mountaineers summiting Everest. For some reason, that’s the detail that stuck with me. The eyelashes.
I forced myself to look.
Not Harkins. A total stranger.
So who was he? How did he end up in Ian’s freezer? And did Ian know he was here?
The dead man was wearing a white golf shirt and navy slacks, with a tan windbreaker. No logos. He had a crew cut. Probably blond or sandy brown. I’d have guessed he was in his midthirties. But it was hard to tell.
There was a reddish stain in the middle of his chest. About the size of a baseball. Gunshot?
Just how long had he been here? Had Harkins shot him, then fled?
At this point, Ian was going to have to call the cops, work visa or no. Besides, I was beginning to wonder if that story was total BS. And exactly what had Harkins done in jolly old England that had gotten him tossed into jail?
Ian never did answer that question.
I dropped the freezer lid and pulled myself up the steps. Just as I hit the top, the lightbulb popped.
It was time to have another talk with my friendly, neighborhood innkeeper. And I had a feeling this time it would be a little less friendly.
Chapter 17
Turned out, operating a B&B was a lot harder than I’d ever realized. Even without a body in the basement.
When I reached Ian, he was on the run. Literally. Tending to the needs of one guest (“Can we get some pink hydrangeas in our room, too? Like the ones in the side garden?”) and another (“The bath water is hot, but not ‘steaming hot.’ Can you fix it?”). And somehow, announcing “By the way, there’s a body in the freezer” in a tearoom now teaming with a local book club seemed rude.
When the produce and linen delivery guys showed up at the same time, I accepted Ian’s offer to wait in the library.
No way I was going back down to the basement by myself. Especially in the dark. I didn’t even want to be basement adjacent.
I was guessing the cops would just carry out the whole thing—freezer and all. Neater that way. And less hassle for Ian.
It wasn’t like he was ever going to use that freezer again.
I looked down and realized my hands were shaking. So who was the dead man? I was fairly certain I’d never seen him around the inn. Or at the cocktail party.
Then it hit me: What was I going to tell Nick? He needed Ian’s kitchen to keep his business afloat. With a dead body downstairs, the cops could close down Ian, too. If it were me, I’d take my chances with shuttering the bakery for a few weeks while we retrofitted my kitchen. But that was Nick’s call.
The library looked much the same as it had the other night. I wondered if Rube was still in residence. And if so, why? He lived a short hop away in Georgetown. Escaping to Baltimore for the weekend, I could see. Or the mountains. But why a local B&B? Or maybe it was true what they said: the rich really aren’t like you and me.
“So sorry to keep you,” Ian said, striding into the room and closing the doors behind him. “Is this about my father? Have you found something already?”
“Uh, not exactly. It could involve your father, but I’m not sure.”
I gave him the basics. Icy freezer. Icy body. Not Harkins. Possibly there since the party. Or before.
He looked troubled. But not as flustered as I’d expected. My read: He hadn’t known about the body. Yet, somehow, it wasn’t a total shock, either.
“You’re certain it wasn’t my father?”
“Totally. This guy is a lot younger. I’m guessing early to midthirties. Blond or sandy-brown crew cut. Wearing a white golf shirt, tan windbreaker, and navy slacks. Sound familiar? One of the guests? Maybe someone who came for tea?”
“Not familiar in the least.” His face was a mask. “And he doesn’t sound like anyone I’ve seen around here. How in the blazes did he get inside the freezer? It’s not even supposed to be plugged in.”
“I know it doesn’t suit your plans, but we need to call the police,” I said quietly.
“I know,” he said, nodding. “If you don’t mind, though, I need to leave my father’s name out of this.”
“They’ll need to question everyone here. The fact that he’s missing could be a red flag.” Unfortunately, I’d learned that one the hard way.
“If they can narrow down the time frame for when the man died, that could rule out the need to talk to Dad.”
“It could,” I said.
Or it could throw him right in the soup. Which was where I’d put my money if I were betting.
“I could just say he’s away for the week,” Ian said blandly. “Fishing, perhaps.”
“Look, I know I’m the last person who should be giving advice on the subject. But it’s never a good idea to lie to the police. Eventually, everything comes out. And in this case, that could be a good thing. It was for me.”
Ian’s expression was stoic. Unreadable. But his eyes were now a stormy blue, like the sky on the night of the party. I could see the wheels turning.
“How long has the freezer been in the house?” I asked.
“Delivered last week. From an appliance store,” he said.
“So, conceivably, the body could have been in there since then. Or even before, if the guy is somehow connected to the appliance store.”
“We opened the freezer when they brought it in. And it was empty, save for some paperwork and a few wire shelving racks. We had them deposit it downstairs near the entryway until we could clear a space in the back. But no one ever plugged it in. I am certain of that.”
“Someone did. Probably the same someone who put the body in it. We need to turn this over to the cops.”
“Could you tell how he died?” Ian asked.
I shook my head. “Some kind of injury to the chest. Could have been a gunshot.”
Ian’s face relaxed slightly. “My father hates guns. Won’t touch them.”
“Harkins is a good guy. That’s a given. But we still have to call the police.”
“Agreed. But I want to see him first. The dead man. If he is one of my guests, I want to know.”
“The basement bulb is burned out, so we’re going to need flashlights.”
“Again? That is the third bulb just this week. Between the plumbing and the electric, I’m beginning to believe this house truly is cursed. Wait, ‘we’? ‘Flashlights’?” he said, emphasizing the “s.”
“Trust me, it’s not something you want to see alone.”
“Yes, right.” He nodded. “Thank you for that.”
* * *
Five minutes later, armed with flashlights, we were standing over the freezer. I took a step to one side. Ian lifted the lid and looked down. I kept my eyes on his face. Call me crazy, but I suspected that the guy knew a bit more than he was telling.
“It’s empty,” he said, with obvious relief.
“What?” I mumbled, startled.
“There’s nothing in h
ere. Certainly no one,” he said, pointedly.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said, staring into an empty freezer. “I was down here twenty minutes ago. There was a man in there. A man with a crew cut and a big red stain on his chest.”
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a brandy,” Ian said. “Would you join me for one in the library?”
“Ian, we have to call the cops!”
“And report what? That our freezer is missing a dead body? We don’t know who he is, or where he is, or even what he is. For all we know, it could have been some sort of a sadistic hoax. The lighting down here is rather dim. It could have been one of the mannequins we employed for the murder mystery weekend.”
“Pretty realistic mannequin,” I said, remembering the eyelashes. “Do you know where they are now?”
“Afraid my father took care of that part of it. No idea where those supplies are now. Luckily, we don’t host another one for a few weeks. Alex, I’m not doubting you. I’m saying that in the past week there have been some odd things happening here—almost like a series of practical jokes. But vicious. Things I’ve fixed—broken again. Water spigots left on. Water mains turned off. Lightbulbs smashed or missing. That fuse box and our generator the other night. This morning, someone actually deposited a dead rat on the patio. One of the white ones that you see in a laboratory. Right in front of the French doors. Luckily, I spotted it before one of the guests did.”
“You think someone is sabotaging this place?”
“I don’t know what else to think. It can’t be a coincidence. Then you see a body? A human body? But now it’s vanished. Like a trick. It could reappear later. Or perhaps it was never genuine in the first place. I think someone is having some rather cruel fun at the inn’s expense.”
“Do you think it has something to do with your father’s disappearance?”
“No idea. But that seems quite a step up from malicious mischief. Alex, I can handle the inn. But I need to make sure that Dad’s all right. I’ve made some inquiries among his crowd in London. But nothing’s borne fruit. Not yet.”
I sighed. “I haven’t forgotten. And I will help you. That was the real reason I was down there.”
“What do you mean?” he said sharply.
“I realized the freezer was up and running the night of the party. Even though it wasn’t supposed to be. And when you said your father went missing that same night, I was worried. I had to check it out. I’m relieved it wasn’t him. But it was someone. I take it you still don’t want to call the cops?”
“Not until we have something we can actually show them. And other than a laboratory rat in the rubbish bin, right now I have precisely nothing.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him. He was right. The police would show up, take our statements and leave. Probably within fifteen minutes. Ten, if Ian didn’t offer them coffee.
I also didn’t like the idea of Nick working in Sabotage Central.
I might have promised Ian I wouldn’t narc to the cops about his father. But I’d said nothing about ratting him out to my brother. So to speak.
When I got home, Nick would get the full story. Every detail. Including the now-missing contents of the basement freezer. And I was hoping he’d put his own safety ahead of his new career.
I also prayed he’d forget that, in a similar situation not long ago, I’d made a very different choice.
Chapter 18
I took a pass on Ian’s offer of a brandy in the library.
I just wanted to go home, bolt my doors (for all the good it would do), take a long, hot shower, and put a serious dent in Nick’s stockpile of limbo cookies.
Alas, it was not to be.
I noticed Trip’s car was gone when I arrived back at Chez Vlodnachek. I hoped he was finally sampling the Cajun place. He’d earned it.
Nick opened the door before I hit the porch.
“We have to talk,” we both said in unison.
He grinned. “OK, you look like you could use a beer. How about I bring two out here? You can tell me your news. Then I’ll tell you mine.”
I sagged onto one of the plastic lawn chairs that served as my “outdoor furniture.” Nick seemed pretty upbeat. But if his news was “Hey, we found J.B.’s family,” I didn’t think he’d stand on ceremony. We Vlodnacheks tend to blurt things out. Which made for some very entertaining holiday meals.
“How are Baba and J.B. getting along?” I asked when he reappeared and handed me a can. I hadn’t heard any crying, so that was probably a good sign.
“It’s like he’s a long lost Vlodnachek. She loves him. And he loves her. She told him Russian fairy stories and sang to him, and he was enthralled. He just nodded off.”
Maybe Trip was right. Maybe J.B. was a Vlodnachek after all. If he was, Nick didn’t seem to have a clue. How could I ask him about that and tell him the truth about his spooky new workplace?
I decided to take the same advice I offered him: one crisis at a time. “He’s sleeping? Really sleeping?”
“Yup. She took out one of your dresser drawers and fixed it up with blankets. Like a bassinet. He’s tucked in safe and snug. With a little smile on his face. Now, what is it you needed to say?”
“I found a body in Ian’s basement freezer.”
“Ian’s got a freezer in the basement?”
“Really? That’s your takeaway?”
“Well, he doesn’t seem like a body-in-the-basement kind of guy. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I saw the guy. It was awful. Then the lights went out. And I went to tell Ian. But by the time we got back, it was gone.”
“The freezer too, or just the body?” Nick asked.
“Just the body. What is it with you and the damned freezer?”
“Well, if your guy’s thawing out, he’s gonna be pretty easy to find.”
“Jeez, you’re right,” I said. “Look, the real story is there are all kinds of strange things going on at the inn.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“What do you mean, you know?”
“I was there all Friday afternoon and most of the evening baking. I hear things. Man, last night I was so beat I was imagining shadows in the garden.”
“I’m not talking about the ghost baby,” I said.
“What ghost baby?”
I ignored the question. “Ian thinks someone is sabotaging the inn. Broken lights, messing with the electrical system, water left on—or turned off at the main. This morning he found a dead rat on the patio.”
“Yikes! I hope Simmons doesn’t hear about that. He actually stopped by when he heard I was baking over there. Claimed he was required to do a spot check.”
“On a Saturday? He seems awfully invested in shutting you down.”
“Yeah, for some reason, I think this one’s personal. Ian ushered him out, and that’s the last we saw of him.”
“Ushered him out?”
“I’d say ‘tossed,’ but it was so much more polite. Like Ian was inviting him to leave.”
“Yeah, he does have that reserved British demeanor thing going for him,” I said.
Three racing bikes streaked down the street. Reflexively, I waved. Two of the three riders returned the gesture.
“Anyway, I heard some of the guests talking,” Nick said. “A couple of people who checked in this week vanished.”
“You’re kidding! Who?”
“One was a woman. Possibly some celebrity. Very mysterioso.”
“Walked out on the bill?”
“Rumor is she was fully paid. And collected her stuff. But cut her stay short and just disappeared.”
“Who was the other one?”
“Some insurance salesman. Supposedly checked in, paid for a week, and nobody’s seen him since.”
“I don’t suppose he had a crew cut?” I asked.
“No idea,” Nick said, taking a sip. “I overheard a couple of guests talking. They didn’t describe him. I don’t know if they ever saw him. They were just repeating
the dirt they heard around the inn. And all they said was that he sold insurance. You think he’s your corpsicle?”
“I don’t know. Ian didn’t mention any of this. Just the pranks. He put it all down to ‘malicious mischief.’ Or possible sabotage.”
“I got the feeling that the disappearing guest thing wasn’t that uncommon,” Nick said. “No one skipped out on the bill. They just decided not to stay. For whatever reason. And that’s not exactly something you advertise to your other guests.”
“Yeah, a couple at the party theorized that the woman was an actress recovering from plastic surgery. Apparently, she was never seen without a big hat, sunglasses, and a scarf.”
“So she healed up, opted for a discreet checkout, and went home,” Nick concluded.
“That explains one of them—but what about Insurance Guy?” I countered.
“Checked in, didn’t like his room, and left? If he never actually stayed there, it’s not like he’d even have to check out. They’d just credit his card. Maybe the reason Ian didn’t mention it is there’s nothing to mention.”
“Nick, there was a body in the freezer! A real human body.”
“What did Ian say when you told him?”
“Not much,” I said. “Harkins is missing. Almost two days now. He was just relieved it wasn’t him. And when the freezer came up empty, he tried to play it off like one more prank. He even suggested it could have been a mannequin from one of their murder mystery weekends.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t?”
“Yes! I mean, the light wasn’t great. But yes. It’s not like I haven’t seen a body before.”
“True that. I don’t suppose it could have been left over from the last psycho killer?”
“Nope. The freezer was just delivered last week, according to Ian. And there was something in his reaction. Or lack of reaction. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Not like he actually knew about it. Just that he wasn’t all that surprised.”
“British reserve again?”
“I dunno. Look, whatever’s going on over there, it’s way past the point of practical jokes or even sabotage. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be working at the B&B.”
Nick took another pull of his beer, but I could see the amusement in his eyes.
