A Dead And Stormy Night

by A. R. Winters

  Cranberry juice. There’s no sign of it here. Is it downstairs?

  I still didn’t know whether the bottle of wine was ours, either. Between the storm and the Jepsens, I’d forgotten to check.

  Suddenly, I heard footsteps on the stairs. I hurried to my feet, crept to the nightstand, and switched off the bedside light.

  Don’t come in here. Just don’t come in here.

  I heard Kenneth’s voice on the other side of the door.

  “What happens when we get back?” he asked.

  “I bury my father,” Tabitha said. “After that, I convince my mom it’s crazy for me to go across the country right now.”

  Ouch.

  “Not what I meant. But I get your point. Look, I’m not asking…” Kenneth’s voice trailed down the hall toward the reading room.

  I waited until I was sure they were inside, then slipped out of the room. I needed to get to the wine closet.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Once I was in the hallway, I didn’t stop for fear of drawing attention to myself. I simply stepped out of the executive suite, closed the door behind me, and walked back down the stairs like I was on official business.

  If Kenneth or Tabitha noticed me at all neither said anything.

  Perfect.

  Dinner and dessert shouldn’t have been over, but Kenneth and Tabitha had managed to break away from the others. That was the trouble with picnics, especially of the indoor variety. Not being locked to a table encouraged guests to wander around. Which would make it that much harder to get to the wine closet.

  On my way down the stairs, I heard music coming from the front parlor. The sweet, yeasty aroma of fried dough still lingered in the air, but the acrid notes of strong coffee were right behind it.

  They’re still on dinner.

  I eased the rest of the way downstairs and ducked into the alcove behind the staircase. As soon as I opened the door, I noticed a bottle missing from the top shelf. If one of us had taken it down, Danielle would have pulled another bottle, either from the bottom rack or from storage. It was possible that restocking got forgotten in the chaos the morning we found Harold Jepsen’s body.

  But, Danielle had been as much in overachieving hostess mode that night as she was now. She would have replaced the bottle that night.

  One of the guests had taken it.

  At dinner it didn’t sound like Harold Jepsen liked wine. Why grab a bottle from the closet instead of the bar in the parlor?

  Maybe he didn’t want to go that far and risk being seen. Ashley spent that night in the front parlor. Maybe he’d wanted to avoid another confrontation with her?

  That seemed as unlikely as Danielle forgetting to replace the wine bottle. When it came down to it, Ashley was a temporary employee of a hotel Harold Jepsen had the clout to ruin. Even if Ashley had told Catherine Jepsen about his behavior, that would have done more to hurt Hal’s wife than him. The marriage was over. It was only the money holding them together.

  Unless Harold Jepsen had done something truly over the line, he had little to fear from Ashley or anyone else in the house.

  If he didn’t take it himself, someone must have taken it to him.

  My eyes drifted down to the frame around the closet door. A tiny piece of shocking blue tucked beside the wood caught my attention. I leaned down and picked it up between pinched fingers.

  Plastic. We didn’t keep plastic cups in the wine closet, and Danielle would die before she stocked wine that came in a plastic bottle. The bottle opener was partially plastic, but it wasn’t blue. Despite the tropical blue-green color scheme of the Paradise, I could only think of a few things made of blue plastic that we had.

  One of them was the bottle of cranberry juice.

  It hadn’t been in the executive suite––I was sure a bottle that size would have stuck out among the usual hotel room trash. Maybe they had taken it with them?

  Or… maybe it’s still in the kitchen.

  Danielle was in there, but I had more confidence in my ability to explain away my presence in the kitchen than in the executive suite.

  As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry. Danielle was busy at the counter when I walked into the kitchen. She had a dozen mason jars lined up in a row, each with a generous spoonful of stewed fruit and chia seeds at the bottom. The porcelain jar we used to store oatmeal and a carton of milk were beside her.

  I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and tried to keep my voice casual. “You’re doing overnight oats again tomorrow?”

  “I know… It’s cheating, but Ben’s been extra fussy today. Granny needs a break, and to be honest, I wouldn’t mind sinking into the recliner.” Danielle let out a deep sigh.

  “If you want to sleep in, I can do the wakeup calls and pass out breakfast.” I went to the fridge and tugged it open like I didn’t have a care in the world.

  There were two pitchers of sweet tea––the half-full one from today and one brewing for tomorrow––and an assortment of sodas, but no cranberry juice.

  It must be in the recycling…

  “Wish I could, but Andrew and I should probably be up in case Detective Reid gets here early. The Jepsens should have a friendly face nearby, and Reid is…”

  “Less friendly than gruff and chiseled.” I grabbed the pitcher of sweet tea and poured myself a glass. “No, I get it. Why don’t you take off early now? The electricity’s on so we’ve got the dishwasher back. And it’s not like I can screw up putting oats and milk into jars.”

  Danielle looked like she might burst into tears. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Go on and get your snuggles from Benny Boy.”

  “Okay, but if you need an extra pair of hands––”

  “I’ll call Ash.” I kissed Danielle on the cheek and shooed her out of the kitchen.

  Once I was sure Danielle was gone, I went to the recycling bin. The empty bottle of cranberry juice was on top. I peered at the plastic seal. There was a piece missing, exactly the size and shape of the piece I saw in the wine closet.

  If I’d had any doubts before, I was sure now. Someone had taken the wine and cranberry juice the night Harold Jepsen died.

  I need to warn Reid. Whatever the consequences.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I hurried back upstairs to the office to grab my cellphone, but I didn’t dare call Reid from inside the house. If anyone in my family heard me, they couldn’t honestly say they didn’t know I was investigating. If one of the guests heard me––especially the wrong guest––it would reveal everything I knew.

  At best, it would give them time to destroy evidence. At worst, it would make me and my family targets.

  When I walked into the office, Ashley was sitting on her cot with her laptop balanced on her knees and Coral tucked against her hip. They both looked in my direction. Ash nodded.

  “You off duty for the night?” she asked.

  “Almost. Some of the guests have started wandering back to their rooms. That usually means they’ve had enough to eat and want to chat or watch a show on their devices.” I wasn’t quite ready to tell Ashley what I’d learned. If Reid put her on his list of suspects, saying the wrong thing might make him more suspicious.

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “Leaving perfectly good screens at home to stare at new screens somewhere else. Those people deserved a better vacation.”

  “Most of what people go through isn’t what they deserve.” I said. “We did what we could, and that’s all we can do.”

  “Sure, it’s just… I dunno. Maybe I will feel a little better when things are back to normal,” she said.

  “Let’s give you a kick in the right direction,” I said, nodding toward her laptop. “Queue up something totally ridiculous and I’ll grab one of the more affordable bottles of wine from the cellar. It’ll probably be a rose.”

  “Deal!” Ashley leaned forward and rubbed Coral’s back. “Hear that, Coco? We’re watching trashy TV tonight!”

  I left with a smile on my face, but it fa
ded as I descended the staircase and remembered my “mission.”

  The air outside was still hot, thick, and drizzling, so I didn't think any of the Jepsens would be on the front porch. Just in case, I left through the back door and walked back toward the garden cottage. Finally sure I was alone, I pulled out my phone and dialed Reid.

  I took a breath and prepared myself to tell him everything in one rush.

  The call went straight to voicemail.

  Of course. I left Reid a message telling him about the diary, the missing epinephrine autoinjector, and the wine I thought had been laced with cranberry juice. I didn’t get to hear his reaction, but it was oh so satisfying to get everything out without Reid interrupting me to warn him away from his case.

  I would have loved to stop getting involved in Conner Reid’s cases. As soon as they stopped ensnaring me and my family.

  My feet were already wet so I took the path back to the front porch instead of the back. The last thing I needed was blisters slowing me down. The first floor was deserted when I got back, but the sounds of music and laughter suggested at least the younger Jepsen girls were still awake. I pulled off my shoes and tiptoed down the hall. My plan was to stash my shoes on the back porch to dry, run upstairs and grab Ashley’s shoes, then come back down to clean.

  I was almost at the staircase when I noticed a figure lurking in the darkened reading room. He stood with his back toward the hallway, his eyes locked on the moonlight reflecting in the black waves. The silhouette was masculine, but unfamiliar––one of the guests. From the slump of his shoulders and slight tilt of his body toward his right side, I figured it was Jeremy Jepsen.

  He had the look of a man who hadn’t slept in months. Maybe years.

  It finally caught up with him. Should I let him be? No… if he’s still up, he may need something. Even if it’s just an ear.

  I tiptoed toward the reading room and gently rapped my knuckles on the door frame. “Jeremy? Can I get you anything?”

  He didn’t turn around.

  I waited. “Jeremy? Mr. Jepsen?”

  At first, he didn’t respond. When he did, his voice had a strange lightness to it.

  “It’s funny, but I’ve thought about dying young for so long, it felt like the only way my story could end,” he said. “I know we all do the dying part, but for me… every day since my 20s has been borrowed time.”

  An ear it is. I crept into the reading room and waited for Jeremy to let go.

  “Then I hit my 30s. Then my 40s. Then on my 50th birthday, I decided to stop wasting so much time planning my own funeral. I met Emily three weeks later.”

  “Happiness is an excellent gift to give yourself,” I said. “We should all try it sometime.”

  Jeremy made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I thought so too. So did Catherine. And Hal. Of course, whatever Hal saw and liked, he wanted. It worked for him for most of our lives. When we were young, he could charm a God-fearing woman into a life of sin. I mean that metaphorically… mostly.”

  “It must have been hard for you as a brother and a business partner.”

  “Not really.” Jeremy shrugged then let his shoulders hang low again. “Like I said, I was busy planning my funeral. Then I stopped planning and I met my wife. I know I’m not a looker, I see myself in the mirror every day. I should have been on a couch or in a hammock somewhere for most of the last decade. Instead, I chose to build something that will take care of my nieces after our generation is gone. I kept going, and I never expected any woman to look at me. Then Emily did.”

  “Right after you decided to live. There’s a kind of poetry in that.” It was the stuff of Hollywood films. At least a cheesy basic cable romance. So why did Jeremy Jepsen sound so sad?

  “Hal couldn’t even let me have that. He flirted with her every chance he got. Shamelessly. In front of me. In front of Catherine. Right after we got married, I bought Emily her dream house. The day we closed, we took Hal, Catherine, and the girls on a tour. He cornered her in the kitchen. He couldn’t stand to lose. I think he really thought he could get something going with her.”

  I sank my teeth into my lip to keep from expressing my outrage. This wasn’t my story to react to––that wasn’t what Jeremy Jepsen needed.

  “Hal had three daughters and a wife who was still queen of their social circle. Never mind that the doctors gave Emily and I virtually no chance of conceiving. I can’t believe we beat the odds.”

  There was an emotion in Jeremy Jepsen’s voice, but I wouldn’t have called it wonder or awe.

  Something about Jeremy’s tone made we wonder if more than innocent flirting happened between Harold Jepsen and his new sister-in-law.

  “Like she said, it’s a miracle, right?”

  “Yeah, right. Maybe the first I’ve ever seen.” Jeremy shoved his free hand into his pocket and turned around.

  There were dark circles beneath Jeremy’s eyes, deep and heavy enough to be seen even in the dim light coming from the hallway. His cheeks were sunken into his face as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure when I last saw him eat.

  If I didn’t know better, I would say something was bothering him. Given the topic of his rant, I thought I might know what.

  He wondered if Harold and Emily had gone farther than flirting too. I wanted to ask him about it. Badly. But I also didn’t want to add to the pain he already seemed to be feeling.

  The Jepsens deserved a better vacation than they got. Jeremy deserved peace of mind.

  When he was almost to the hallway, Jeremy paused and turned back to look at me.

  “By the way, I’ve been trying to find your friend Ashley all weekend,” he said. “Your sister wouldn’t be hiding her in the basement to avoid another confrontation with my wife… would she?”

  I feigned a smile. “Staffing and chore assignments tend to be in flux when we have such a small crew. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Jeremy threw me a skeptical look. “Even so, if you would be so kind as to pass my apologies on to Ashley on my brother’s behalf?”

  Before I could say or ask anything else, Jeremy Jepsen crossed the threshold and headed for the staircase, leaving me alone in the reading room with everything I’d learned.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My dreams wouldn’t let me rest that night. I dreamed about the storm that killed my parents. On the shore, it had been hardly more than a thunderstorm, but my parents hadn’t been on the shore. They’d been on a boat with friends. I’d long since forgotten the reason for impromptu celebration. All I remembered is four people went out on the water that evening, including my mother and father.

  None of them came back.

  In my dream, I was at Granny’s house, just like I had been that night. But every time I looked toward the window, I saw a shadowy figure tapping soundlessly on the window.

  I’d had that dream dozens of times since my parents died. But this time, I knew it wasn’t them on the other side of the glass. The rigid posture was nothing like my dad’s.

  It was Harold Jepsen.

  I woke up to Ashley shaking my shoulder.

  “You all right, hon?” she asked.

  I waited for her blurry face to come into focus before I answered.

  “Right as rain. Did I miss the wakeup calls?”

  “Ours and the guests.” Ashley didn’t bother to hide the concern in her voice. “I texted Danielle to let her know I was having a hard time waking you. She said let you sleep.”

  I pushed myself up into a sitting position, grunting and shaking my head. “Offer her a morning off and she gives you one instead. Why is she like this?”

  Ash shrugged. “Undeserved generosity is a family trait? Anyway, the guy from the Sheriff's department is on his way, so if you don’t want him to see you scarfing down overnight oats in your pajamas, I suggest you get a move on.”

  I told Ash I would be down after I washed up and got dressed. Since I was running late, I decided to check in
with Danielle before I did anything else. Halfway to the dining room, I glanced through the front door and saw Detective Reid on the front porch. Three men in jumpsuits stood behind him. Two of them balanced a stretcher between them. The third carried a hard case the size of his torso.

  Haven’t even had my coffee yet, I grumbled to myself but forced a smile to my face as I opened the door.

  “Morning, Ms. Fisher,” he said in a totally professional voice. “You needed our assistance?”

  “Yesterday,” I said. “But better late than never. Mr. Jepsen is upstairs.”

  “Good morning, Detective Reid,” Danielle said from behind me.

  I turned to find her coming out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a white linen hand towel. She must have sensed we had company.

  “Mrs. Loper,” Reid nodded to her. “If you’ll show these men to Mr. Jepsen’s suite, they’ll take over from there.”

  Danielle motioned for the men to follow her upstairs. There footsteps were still retreating down the hall when Reid turned to me.

  “Where’s his family?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  “Probably still in the dining room having breakfast,” I said. “You’re here early.”

  He shrugged. “I figured all parties would like this handled as quickly as possible.”

  “Will it be quick?”

  Reid cocked an eyebrow. “Considering the voicemail you left me last night? I doubt it. Which brings me to my next point. Is there a reason you keep trying to tamper with my investigations, Ms. Fisher?”

  “This time it’s a coincidence. Believe me.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t, since you basically just admitted to tampering with my last investigation.”

  “Is it really ‘tampering’ if I’m just trying to clear my name?” I asked, making air quotes with my fingers.

  Reid was stone-faced. “Are you saying I should consider you a suspect this time?”

  “Always the word games with you.” I rolled my eyes and motioned for Reid to follow me to the dining room.

  He swept in and introduced himself to the Jepsens before I could open my mouth. Melody and Alexis, completely uninterested, turned back to their oatmeal and sausage breakfast. Tabitha and Kenneth exchanged a look then did the same.