by Cindy Bell
Ida could barely believe what she had just heard. Unfortunately, she was sure that the police wouldn't believe it either. She needed to get proof that Peter and Carolyn had been involved in Sandy's death. She left money on her table for her malt and then rushed out of the diner. She quickly called Rex on the way to the parking lot and left a message to meet her at the inn instead of the diner.
Once in the parking lot Aunt Ida hopped onto her motorcycle. As she was speeding down the road towards the inn, her mind was going a million miles a minute. It made sense that Peter would have been able to add the peanut oil to the food. But even knowing this, she couldn't think of a way to pin it directly on him. As her mind spun through different ideas, her motorcycle was trying to keep up. She didn't realize how fast she was going, nor was she paying very close attention to the road. She didn't see the turtle making its slow pilgrimage across the road until she was nearly on top of it. She swerved hard to avoid striking it, and swayed on the motorcycle for a moment before regaining control of it.
What Aunt Ida also didn't see was Mitchell's patrol car nestled in some trees on the side of the road. Mitchell turned on his sirens and lights as Ida buzzed right by him on her motorcycle. She looked in the rear view mirror and groaned as she saw him speeding up to follow after her. At first Ida considered just going faster, but she knew that would not end well. When Mitchell flashed his headlights at her she finally pulled over to the side of the road. She watched through the mirror as Mitchell stepped out of the car and adjusted the hat on top of his head. He walked deliberately towards her.
“Do you know how fast you were going, Ida?” he asked as he tipped his hat back to meet her eyes. It was hard to do because Ida had dark sunglasses that were blocking her eyes. She regarded him with tightened lips and an air of annoyance.
“It's important, Mitchell, I need to get back to the inn as fast as possible,” she began to say more, then she remembered Sarah's warning to be careful what she said. She couldn't risk putting the inn in a position where it might be held responsible for Sandy's death. If Mitchell knew anything about the crime he would have to tell his boss all about it.
“Nothing is as important as your life, Ida,” he said firmly as he pulled out his ticket book.
“Aw, that's so sweet,” Ida replied and pulled off her sunglasses so she could bat her long, dark lashes at him. “I've learned my lesson, Mitchell, really.”
“No, I don't think you have,” he said sternly as he ignored her flirting. He knew Ida well enough to recognize her antics. “If anything ever happened to you it would devastate your nieces, and I can't stand by and watch you take so many chances by speeding like this. You are not behaving in a way that is safe for you, or for other drivers that are on the road.” When he locked eyes with her she had to resist sticking out her tongue. She was normally a fan of Mitchell's but getting an actual speeding ticket from him when he could easily let it slide, left her feeling a little bitter.
Ida was more than a little annoyed as she glanced over her shoulder and then back in the other direction, further up the road.
“What other drivers?” she demanded as she glowered at him. “There's no one else on the road.”
“Maybe not, but there could be,” he said with certainty as he scribbled on the pad. “And what about that poor turtle?” he reminded her.
“He made it safely across the road,” Ida spat back. “Is there some kind of turtle law I broke?”
“Ida, you have to understand, I'm doing this for your own good,” Mitchell said frowning and finished filling out the ticket.
“You're not really going to write me a ticket, are you?” Ida gasped as she stared at him. “You can't be serious!”
“I'm quite serious,” he replied and stepped closer to her. “You're putting yourself in danger, and I happen to like you,” he explained as he ripped the ticket off the pad. “I also happen to know that Vicky and Sarah have warned you about driving recklessly. So, if you're not going to listen to them, then maybe you'll learn your lesson from having to pay this ticket.”
“Unbelievable!” Ida huffed as she stared at him. “You're not going to get away with this, Sheriff McDonald will hear about this!”
“I'm sure he will,” Mitchell frowned as he handed her the ticket. “But even if it means working extra shifts for a year, I wouldn't feel right if I didn't do something to try to get you to stop this dangerous behavior.”
“Dangerous behavior,” Ida muttered and shook her head. “You wouldn't know danger if it bit you on your toe!”
He raised an eyebrow and tried not to crack into a smile. Ida didn't notice the amusement in his gaze as she fretted. “I'm not paying this!” she added as she shoved the ticket into the pocket of her motorcycle jacket. “You can bet your fancy little hat that I'm going to fight this in court, and I'll win. This is harassment of the elderly,” she added.
“Ida, you're not elderly,” he reminded her and had to suppress a chuckle.
“I will be when I go to court to fight this ticket! I can play up to ten years older than I am, Mitchell. You're going to regret this, boy-o, yes you will! To think I used to like you!”
Mitchell shifted from one foot to the other and hoped that she couldn't tell that he was starting to actually get nervous. Ida was eccentric, but she was also very determined, and he had yet to see her not accomplish anything that she set her mind to.
“Ida honestly, I'm doing this for your safety…” he attempted to explain again.
“Lucky for you I don't have time to waste on arguing with you,” she said harshly and fired up her motorcycle. “And don't you follow me either!”
As she peeled off down the road Mitchell stared in amazement. It wasn't so much Ida's behavior that stunned him. It was more how much she reminded him of Vicky that left him dazed.
***
Vicky glanced down at her phone to find a text from Mitchell indicating he had given her Aunt Ida a ticket for speeding. Vicky frowned with concern, not so much for the ticket, but for the fact that her aunt had been speeding. She was just about to step into Sarah's office to talk to her about it, when Ida burst into the lobby.
“Aunt Ida?” Vicky asked with surprise. “Are you okay?”
“I'm just fine, your ticket-giving boyfriend though, he has started a war he won't win,” Ida wagged her finger with warning.
“Aunt Ida,” Vicky began to say as she placed her hands on her hips. “You know he was only doing his job…”
“Never mind that,” Ida said dismissively as she glanced around the lobby. “Where's Sarah? We need to talk,” she walked over to the front desk.
“She's in her office, I think,” Vicky said as she tucked her phone into her pocket. “What happened?” she asked curiously.
“Inside,” she pointed to the office door and Vicky followed her inside. Once they were inside, Ida closed the door behind them. Sarah looked up from the papers she was reading over with surprise.
“We need to talk,” Aunt Ida said sternly.
“Yes, we do,” Sarah admitted as she laid the papers back down on the desk. “I just had a very unpleasant call from the Lambard family lawyer. The medical examiner confirmed that it was an allergic reaction and the lab tests proved that the food in the room was laced with peanut oil. This is not going to go away easily,” she admitted.
“Well, I don't think it should,” Ida said stubbornly. “But I do think that there is more going on here than meets the eye.”
“What do you mean?” Vicky asked as she sat down across from Sarah's desk.
“While I was at the diner, I overheard Peter talking to one of the waitresses, Carolyn I think her name was,” she explained. “She's his sister. It sounded to me like she was very happy to hear about Sandy's death.”
“Wait, Carolyn? Are you sure?” Vicky asked as she studied her aunt closely.
“Yes, that's what he called her,” Ida insisted. “The way they were talking, it sounded like Peter was the one who put the peanut oil on the food a
nd she asked Peter if he had seen Gerald.”
“When I was confirming some plans with Melissa about her bridal shower she said that Carolyn had thrown a fit over being invited to be a bridesmaid because she's involved with a married man,” Vicky said thoughtfully. “I had no idea that Peter is her brother,” she added. “Do you think they could have been talking about Gerald?”
“Slow down,” Sarah requested with a shake of her head. “What are you suggesting? That Peter was not only involved but planned all of this?”
“It wasn't Henry,” Vicky said passionately and stabbed her thumb against the surface of the desk in front of her. “Never in a million years will you get me to believe that Henry made a mistake like putting peanut oil into a bottle labeled sunflower oil and then put that oil on the food. So, it had to be someone else who had access to the kitchen.”
“It wasn't Peter who planned it out either,” Ida interjected. “From their conversation it seemed to me that it was Carolyn who had masterminded the whole thing.”
“But what about Gerald?” Vicky suggested, her eyes wide. “Maybe he was involved, he just didn't lace the food. He had his lover, Carolyn, do it!”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Sarah smacked her hands firmly on the desk. “We're getting way ahead of ourselves. First of all, we don't know if Gerald was involved at all. From what you overheard, Aunt Ida, I understand why you suspect Carolyn and Peter, but we don't really know what they were talking about, and even if we did, we don't have any proof. If we go to the police and tell them that we suspect Peter, he is still our employee, and the inn will still be held responsible. If Peter did this I doubt that he will confess. We need to be very careful about our next steps. Let's sleep on this, and in the morning, we'll figure out what to do.”
“Well, there's not much we can do tonight,” Vicky agreed. “Let's meet up first thing in the morning. I really think if we bring Mitchell into this, he will help.”
“Ha!” Ida snapped and rolled her eyes. “How? By giving us all tickets?”
“Aunt Ida, if you were speeding…” Sarah began.
“That's it, I'm out of here!” Aunt Ida declared and walked right out of Sarah's office.
“Aunt Ida,” Vicky moaned and followed after her. “Mitchell was just trying to protect you.”
“If everyone would stop trying to protect me, you all might just figure out that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Ida flipped the collar of her jacket up and stalked off towards her room.
Once Ida was closed off in her room, and Sarah had gone home to get a break from the tension at the inn, Vicky stepped out onto the porch. A part of her hoped that Mitchell would stop by to join her, but she knew he was working. As she looked up at the stars that speckled the sky she thought about the events that had unfolded. She was so convinced that Henry was innocent, but she simply couldn't piece together how the peanut oil had ended up on the food. She closed her eyes and tried to go back through the day. She was sure that she must have forgotten about something.
Suddenly, Vicky recalled the shed door being open when she walked past it after she had cleaned up the pool area. She knew that was where all the peanut oil had been stored. Had Peter gone back out to the shed after all of the oil was put away? He was fairly new to the inn so he might not have known to shove the door shut.
Vicky swung slowly back and forth on the porch swing. It creaked quietly through the darkness that surrounded her. As she sorted through her thoughts she tried to recall everything about the day that had struck her as strange. It seemed so clear that Peter had been the one to put the peanut oil on the food. But she still had no way of proving it. As she closed her eyes she had to wonder, was Gerald involved? Did he play a bigger part in all of this than anyone realized?
Vicky knew that they had all agreed not to do anything else until morning, but she was impatient. She didn't want to give Gerald and Carolyn time to create cover stories or plant even more evidence to frame Henry or the inn. The inn was quiet with most of the guests having finished dinner and already settled into their rooms. It was a good time for Vicky to check in with Gerald. She knew he was still staying at the inn in a different room but she hadn't seen him since Sandy's death. As she walked back into the inn she caught sight of a figure near the corner of the porch. She turned to look, but didn't see anything more than the shadow of an old rocking chair. Shaking her head with annoyance she closed the door behind her.
Chapter Seven
When Vicky arrived at the room Gerald was staying in, she paused just outside it. She listened for a moment, hoping to be able to tell if Gerald was inside or not. While she was waiting for him to make some kind of noise she thought she heard footsteps. She turned around in search of the source of the sound. She didn't want other guests to catch her eavesdropping. But when she looked up and down the hallway there was no one to be seen. She drew a deep breath and reminded herself to be calm. She still hadn't heard a sound from inside the room. She lifted her hand to knock, but then she felt a little awkward. She didn't know how to broach the conversation with Gerald. It would seem odd for her to just show up at his room in the middle of the evening.
What if he was on the phone with Barry Baker? She decided she needed an excuse to speak to him. She walked down to the end of the hall where one of the maids’ carts was sitting near a storage closet. She looked through it in search of something that would give her a good excuse to knock on his door. Then she found it. It was a fresh pile of towels. A guest could never have enough fresh towels. As she picked them up from the cart and began walking back towards Gerald's room she thought she heard a door click shut. But she didn't see anyone stepping out into the hallway. She paused in front of Gerald's door and then knocked on it sharply.
“Mr. Holstead?” she called out in what she hoped was a casual tone. She heard a scuffing sound, and then Gerald opened the door.
“Yes?” he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“I'm sorry to bother you, I just thought you might like to have some fresh towels,” Vicky explained and shifted from one foot to the other as she tried to peer past him. His frame filled the doorway and left her little space for spying.
“At this time of night?” he asked skeptically. “Don't you have maids who do that?”
“Of course,” Vicky nodded a little. “But we just want to make sure that you have everything you could possibly need. I noticed that the maid on your floor hadn't finished her rounds.”
“Ah, I see,” he smiled a little and accepted the towels. “You know a fresh pile of towels isn't going to change the fact that your chef's mistake killed my wife,” he said bluntly and narrowed his eyes. Vicky hadn't been certain that Gerald was involved, but now she was really beginning to suspect him. His cruel tone and the pleasure he seemed to take in her squirming alerted her to the very real possibility that he was behind the plan to kill his wife.
“It's just a courtesy, Mr. Holstead,” Vicky replied and attempted to keep her voice as even as possible.
“I understand,” he nodded and then sighed heavily. “I'm sorry, it was rude of me to speak to you that way. I know this was all a terrible accident. I just still can't believe she's gone.”
“Of course,” Vicky said softly. “Perhaps there's someone I can call for you, a family member, or friend?” Vicky suggested hesitantly. “You shouldn't be alone at a time like this,” Vicky pointed out.
“I'm afraid I'm not very popular with the in-laws,” Gerald admitted with a slight shrug. “And I don't have family of my own. Sandy was all I had.”
“I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Holstead,” Vicky said as gingerly as she could. He seemed to be experiencing genuine grief, but she knew that some people were astoundingly good liars. From the grizzle that had grown up along his cheeks, and the dark circles under his eyes she was beginning to believe that he was truly lost in grief. “If there's anything I can do to help, please feel free to let me know,” Vicky murmured softly.
“Thank you,” G
erald nodded and turned away from the door. As he closed the door Vicky felt her heart drop. She had been so ready to accuse a man she knew very little about of murdering his wife. Now she was not sure what to think. She was starting to walk away when she heard a cry of surprise come from inside the room. She paused and turned back.
“What are you doing here?” she heard Gerald ask sharply. His voice was followed by a loud crash.
“What do you mean she was all you had?” a shrill voice challenged Gerald in return.
Vicky raised her hand to knock on the door, but before she could do so she heard Gerald's raised voice.
“You can't be here, don't you see how wrong it is for you to be here?” he demanded. Vicky decided not to knock. There was only one person who could be inside that room, and it sounded like Gerald hadn't been expecting her. When she pushed open the door the first thing she spotted was a lamp that had crashed to the floor and shattered. The next thing she saw was Gerald's pale face, and his eyes wide with shock.
“What's going on here?” Vicky asked as she stepped into the room. When she moved beside Gerald she finally saw Carolyn. She was standing in the center of the room with a large knife in her hand. Vicky immediately recognized it as a knife from the set in the kitchen. The knives were famous for being incredibly sharp. She started to step back out the door so she could call for help, but Carolyn jutted the knife towards Gerald.
“If you open that door you're going to be responsible for the death of both Holsteads,” Carolyn warned with sheer fury in her voice. Vicky didn't think that Carolyn would actually hurt Gerald, but she couldn't take that risk. She remained where she was standing, her breath held as she waited to see what Carolyn would do next.
“Carolyn, I don't know what you're thinking, this is insane!” Gerald blurted out, he was obviously stunned, and more than a little frightened by the knife that Carolyn was holding.
“Insane?” Carolyn asked with a soft laugh under her voice. “What's insane about wanting to have what is rightfully mine?” she demanded. “The only insane thing about this whole situation is that you expected me to sit by and wait for years, years, to be with the man I love!”
