Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn

by Heather Horrocks

  Slim shook first Lonny’s gloved hand, then mine. “Slim’s what Dr. Ray and Garrett call me. You don’t want to hear what I call them.” He blew on his fingers and pulled his glove back on. “My name’s Clark Harmon.”

  Surprised, I repeated dumbly, “The Clark Harmon?”

  He laughed. “The real McCoy.”

  “So let me get this straight. I just made a total fool of myself by screaming at my favorite author.”

  He smiled gently. “Why don’t we think of it as our first adventure together?”

  Grateful for his gracious reply, I took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “I do love your mysteries. I’ve read them all.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced at his watch and stuffed his hands into his snowmobile gloves. “It’s freezing out here. Any chance we can go back inside now and warm up?”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” I smiled, anticipating his reaction when he saw the room decorated in honor of his Max McKnight mysteries.

  Lonny opened the door, and we battled our way back into the wind and snow. I nearly lost my breath because of the biting cold. The snowflakes stung as they blasted my face. I closed the door, with Clark’s help, worked the padlock through the hoop, snapped it shut, and tugged on it until it held.

  I glanced at the Inn and saw faint light through the windows. The generator didn’t light the entire Inn, but did illuminate each room as well as the staircases and hallways. And the appliances would be back on.

  A scream ripped through the air like fingernails down a blackboard.

  I froze in place as I tried to judge the direction it came from, but, with the wind ripping around us, constantly shifting direction, the sound could have come from anywhere.

  “The house?” I asked finally, my heart thudding.

  Lonny shook his head. “The carriage house.”

  Clark grabbed my arm. “I’ll go with you.”

  I shook my head. My son was inside the Inn, and that’s where I thought the scream came from. With Zach inside, the thought panicked me, and I started running toward the main building. The men followed me, passing me, now halfway to the main building. The back door opened and a man stepped out. Xavier? I couldn’t tell for sure.

  Another scream rang out. This time, I could tell Lonny was right. It did come from the direction of the carriage house.

  The scream sounded again and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It was not an angry scream, but a terrified sound.

  I changed direction, now heading for the carriage house. Suddenly the man— it was Xavier— passed me. I glanced back to see Lonny and Clark still behind me, but gaining. The lights in the carriage house were out, but there was a candle burning faintly in the window. Watch for the candle, the man’s voice said in the library, and the memory chilled me.

  Another agonized scream scraped its way down my spine.

  I ran as fast as I could, slipping in the snow even in my snow boots. Xavier reached the door first, then me, while Clark and Lonny still struggled through the heavy drifts.

  The door banged open and shut in the wind. I opened it again and ran inside to find BJ kneeling in front of the large, comfy couch. She was trembling, wide-eyed and, in between screams, choking on sobs.

  Xavier stood between her and one of the potted palm trees, shock painting his features.

  At BJ’s feet, a man lay in a most unnatural position.

  I flipped the switch, and the back-up light shone from the back wall.

  “Mr. Calabria?” I asked stupidly, for it was obvious the man lying face up on my carriage house floor was in no shape to say anything. He was unconscious… or worse. But I knew it was Calabria because he was still wearing the gray-on-black pinstripe suit, only blood now ran over the man’s face, neck and chest, while seeping into the light gray carpet around him.

  A sense of nightmarish unreality flowed over me. I could feel myself wanting to turn away, to hide, but refrained.

  After all, I was the person in charge of this nightmare.

  What’s red and black and gray all over? My brain was already starting to ramble: my usual response to extreme stress. I shook my head. Was the killer— obviously Kevin— still in the house? Hiding upstairs? In a closet? In the shadows?

  I never had a panic attack before, but suspected I was having one right at that moment.

  I dragged my eyes from the floor. Xavier leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his face unusually white. He looked very young, and I wondered if he was still ill from earlier, or in shock, like me. “Xavier, run to the main house and get Dr. Ray. And hurry!”

  Xavier walked in a wide circle around Calabria, keeping his eyes on the… body? No, it couldn’t be. This was Calabria. My guest. He had to be alive. He was just unconscious. Passing me, Xavier took off running, slamming the door behind him.

  BJ still knelt beside her fiancé, sometimes screaming, sometimes crying out— “Please wake up, Gregorio! Somebody help him!” before screaming again. When she stopped, she touched his head, as if to caress him, but pulled her hand back, slick with blood, and stared at it as she screamed again.

  The door slammed open and shut again and someone pulled me back— Lonny— then stepped in front of me, as if to shield me from the sight. But I wasn’t the one who needed protecting.

  “Don’t look,” he whispered.

  I wished it wasn’t too late for that.

  Clark Harmon dropped to his knees and checked for a pulse.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Lonny pointed a few feet away. “That.”

  That looked like a large, heavy-looking paperweight, covered with blood and hair. But I recognized it: a large piece of Hawaii lava rock that normally rested on the fireplace mantel. I thought I was going to be sick. I swallowed twice and choked out, “Someone hit him with my Hawaiian rock?”

  Lonny turned to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I closed my eyes for a moment and leaned into him. Don’t panic. Don’t faint. Don’t be sick. What does Grandma always say? In a crisis, take a deep breath, gather your courage, and do what you have to do. I took the deep breath I needed, gathered what little courage I had, and opened my eyes, not looking at Calabria. “Is he still alive?”

  While my eyes were closed, Clark had started CPR. Still pushing on Calabria’s chest, he grunted out, “I’m working on it.”

  “Doesn’t he need to breathe air into his lungs?” I asked Lonny.

  He shook his head. “They’ve found this works better.”

  Clark said, “Anyone know CPR? It’s easier with two people alternating.”

  I didn’t. BJ couldn’t.

  Lonny said, “It’s been awhile since I got my merit badge.”

  As I tried to decide what needed to be done next, Lonny squeezed my shoulder. Figuring out the next thing to do was easy. Calm BJ. “Ms. Killian?”

  She took a shuddering breath and screamed again.

  Lonny released me— and I was sorry to lose the reassuring presence of having his arm around my shoulders— to take hold of BJ’s arms. He shook her gently and spoke words I couldn’t hear.

  Whatever he said worked, for she quieted immediately, though there was a wild look in her eyes. The sudden silence was nearly as jarring as her screaming had been.

  I was seeing a whole new side to Lonny Singer this weekend. A mature, caring, competent side. And I realized I was staring at Lonny and BJ in an attempt to zone out so I didn’t

  have to face the bleeding man on my carriage house carpet.

  I glanced back at Clark, still performing CPR. Over and over.

  Lonny helped BJ sit on the couch, his arm now around her shoulder. Eyes closed, she lay her head against his chest, her hand clutching the front edge of his coat, as she drew in deep, shuddering breaths.

  When Lonny caught my eye, I said, “Would you take Ms. Killian to the main house? To the Southern Sisters room on the third floor?”

  “Sure.” He spoke again to BJ, a soft comforting murmur. Her face was as pale as Xavi
er’s— as pale as mine probably was— but she nodded. He helped her up and stood between her and her view of her fiancé.

  As they passed, I touched his arm. “Thanks.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  It was my turn to nod.

  He looked into my eyes for a long moment, judging for himself, before he escorted BJ out.

  Now it was just Clark and me. Calabria. The sounds of CPR were drowned out by the howling storm.

  It took forever until, finally, the door swung open and Dr. Ray ran inside, breathing heavily. “A medical emergency?”

  I pointed, as if he could have missed it if I didn’t.

  Without hesitation, Dr. Ray stepped forward. Clark looked up inquisitively, but Dr. Ray just yanked on Calabria’s shirt and popped it open, telling Clark to resume CPR. Dr. Ray looked at Calabria’s pupils with his penlight, checked his pulse, and barked, “Did someone call 911?”

  “There’s still no dial tone,” I said.

  Dr. Ray told Clark, “I’ll take compressions.”

  As the two men worked together to resuscitate my guest, I tried to distract myself. I picked up the candle on the wide windowsill and blew it out. Usually guests didn’t light them, because I provided candle warmers in each room. But someone lit this one. Was it the same person who hit Calabria in the head with a rock?

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, my heart thudding in my chest, as I waited to hear Calabria cough his way back to consciousness. To ask me how, once again, I let someone in who wasn’t supposed to be here. But Calabria, himself, must’ve let the attacker inside.

  Finally, after another eternity, Dr. Ray stopped. In a gentle voice, he said, “You can stop now, son.”

  I looked over, hoping for the best.

  Dr. Ray had his hand on Clark’s shoulder.

  Clark sat back on his feet, his brow wrinkled with dismay. He shook his head in disbelief, his hands out before him, covered with Calabria’s blood.

  Dr. Ray drew in a long breath. “Mr. Calabria is dead.”

  Chapter Ten

  Fear skittered up my spine and I ran as fast as I could toward the safety of the house.

  I unlocked the Inn’s back door— only to discover it already was. Again. Anger flickered through me. Did anyone lock the door behind them? How many people have been through this door, anyway? I slipped off my coat and boots. I had to tell the others, notify the authorities, and tell everyone to keep the doors locked.

  The back-up lights only dimly lit the place, but I was thankful we had them.

  The first people I saw were Martha and Garrett, coming down the main staircase.

  Garrett asked, “Anything wrong?” Apparently, I looked as stunned as I felt.

  “Something horrible.” I drew in a deep breath to try to steady my voice, and found myself shivering. “There’s been a murder.”

  Martha laughed. “That’s what we’re here for. So the play went on without us. Who is the lucky victim?”

  “Mr. Calabria. But you don’t understand.”

  “Oh, we understand perfectly.” Garrett put his hands in his pockets. “Gregorio is the perfect one to have been chosen. He messes with people’s lives in real life, as well as in plays.”

  “Not to mention wives.” Martha caressed Garrett’s sleeve. “Poetic justice, don’t you think?”

  I stared at my two guests. “Stay inside until the police get here. He’s dead.” Nausea threatened my composure as I remembered the scent of blood.

  “You’ve got police coming, too?” Garrett clapped. “I must say, you go all out for your weekends. You even set the perfect atmosphere with the power outage and all.”

  Martha said, “Good work, Murder Mistress. And now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re just strolling around your wonderful Inn, soaking in the ambience. I will definitely be coming back.”

  They walked into the library, leaving me staring numbly after them. Would any of my guests believe me? I found Bonnie and Liz still playing Clue in the parlor.

  When they saw my face, Liz jumped up. “Vicki, what’s wrong?”

  “Mr. Calabria is dead.”

  Bonnie looked at me as if she were trying to decide whether or not I was telling the truth.

  “Really!” I snapped.

  Liz wrapped an arm around my waist. “What happened?”

  I told them everything. Clark fixing the generator. Walking back toward the house. Hearing BJ’s scream. Finding Calabria. Dr. Ray pronouncing him dead. By the time I finished, Martha and Garrett had joined us.

  “Have you heard the terrible news?” Bonnie’s voice was pitched higher than normal. “Gregorio is dead.”

  Martha started to laugh, but quieted when everyone stared at her. “I thought it was part of the entertainment.”

  Liz and I shook our heads at the same time.

  “Are you serious?” Martha sank into a chair, her hands clutching the armrests. “He’s dead?”

  “Murdered,” said Liz.

  “Murdered?” Martha blanched.

  Garrett squeezed her shoulder. “How will we contact the authorities?”

  Good question. No phone. No Snow Haven cell tower until after the repairs. Cell phones worked at the fringes of Silver City, and if someone went down that far, they might as well drive into town and let Paul know. My brother would handle this. “I’ll snowmobile down. I’m the one most familiar with both the mountains and the snowmobiles.”

  We may have lost the urgency to get someone here to save Calabria’s life, but we certainly still had the urgency of knowing a murderer was running loose on Porter Mountain.

  Possibly sitting in my Who-Dun-Him Inn right this moment.

  I shivered. I wasn’t willing to wait even one more minute.

  “I’ll go with you,” Garrett offered.

  “But you don’t know the mountains,” Lonny said, walking in with Dr. Ray. “I do. I’ve snowmobiled these mountains all my life. If anyone can get Vicki down safely, it’s me.”

  The others turned to Dr. Ray with questions, but Lonny maintained eye contact with me as he crossed the room and took my hand. “First, we’ll make sure your family is safe.”

  Putting up a hand for silence, Dr. Ray turned to me and said, “I will be most glad to sit downstairs with your family.”

  I bet he would, since Grandma was down there. “Thank you.”

  A chivalrous, successful, doctor-turned-bestselling-author wanted to check on Grandma. I almost smiled despite the tension as I led the way toward the exercise room, stopping to unlock the door at the top of the stairs, which never needed to be locked before. As I started down, I called to Zach, Grandma and Stephanie. Lonny followed behind. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that Dr. Ray was a bit slower, but pretty spry for an older gentleman. When Grandma saw me, she knew immediately something was wrong. I told her I’d let the doctor explain. When she saw Dr. Ray, she sat up straight and touched her hair. When he explained about the murder, she gasped.

  Stephanie shook her head. “This is all crazy.”

  Liz pulled a face at me. “I think it might be wise to let Grandma have her bullets back.”

  “Oh, no need, honey,” Grandma waved her hand dismissively, “I had extras. I put them in earlier.”

  “You mean earlier as in when you pulled the gun out in the dining room?” I asked, horrified.

  Grandma nodded with a big smile. “Of course. How much protection is an unloaded gun?”

  I groaned.

  My sweet, little Zach asked, “Someone was killed?”

  “Yes,” I said, determined not to have him be traumatized by all this. “And that means you’ll be staying down here while Lonny and I snowmobile to town to get Uncle Paul.”

  “Can I go, too?”

  I paused. I wished I could take him along, but it was too dangerous, even for adults. I couldn’t put him at risk.

  “No way, slugger,” Liz spoke for me as she dropped to the floor beside him. “You have to stay with me. Here in the dungeon.”<
br />
  Zach complained, but I could tell he didn’t really mind.

  Grateful, I knew my sister would protect my son as if he were her own.

  * * *

  I brushed the snow from the visor of my helmet. Again. The flakes were not falling anymore, as falling implies a vertical drop. These flakes were being shot from a scattergun straight into the small windshields and our helmets.

  Lonny and I drove our machines directly into the wind, which chilled me, even bundled inside my snowsuit. I couldn’t hear the roar of the storm because of the snowmobile engines, and I struggled to keep Lonny in my headlights, which meant I was close enough to nearly run him down.

  I couldn’t remember having been through a worse storm than this one. Ever. And I was worried.

  We had already stopped at our closest neighbor’s house. Funny thing, ha-ha-ha, their phone line was out, too, because of the storm. I found it more than a little ironic that Kevin didn’t even need to go to the trouble of cutting the phone line at the Inn.

  We passed Kent and Cielo’s house, but figured their phone was out, too. The next house was dark, but that didn’t surprise me. Walter and Phyllis Unger were retired snowbirds who drove back from St. George each month to visit me and two other families from church. They weren’t scheduled to return for another two weeks.

  When we reached Horse Feathers Ranch, we stopped. This was where we had to leave the road. Lonny yelled, “Chances are their phone is out, too. Your call. Stop here? Or go on into town?”

  I glanced over at the main ranch house, then at my watch. Eight-twenty. We were close to town. “Let’s keep going.” So we left the road and roared along the trail down Porter Mountain.

  * * *

  “Aunt Vicki!” Trisha and Amy grabbed my gloved hands and pulled me inside while Jennifer, huge with child, closed the door behind us. Wonderful, warm air filled my lungs.

  I was never so glad to see my family. I hugged the girls, and the thought that there was still a murderer at the Inn with my own child drove me nuts. I wished I had let Zach talk me into getting a dog. A mean, ugly, huge dog with big, sharp teeth.