Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Box Set 2

by Karin Kaufman

  “You stay here with me, Mrs. Foster,” Arthur said. “Let me pour you a steaming cup of coffee.”

  While Julia watched us, mystified by our need to see the basement, Holly and I dug up a flashlight and headed out of the room.

  CHAPTER 3

  A bare lightbulb hanging above the landing lit the wooden stairs leading down to the basement. Just barely. Near the bottom of the stairs, I flicked on our flashlight and swept the beam over the floor and walls. The foundation and walls were constructed of thick stone, and the floor, such as it was, was dirt. The air smelled of mold and mildew, and I was sure I heard mice scurrying along the walls, but the banging sound had ceased.

  “Where did everyone go?” I whispered, creeping forward.

  “I don’t hear them,” Holly whispered back. “They couldn’t have gone far.” She grasped her long, dark ponytail, pulled it over her shoulder, and hung onto it as though it were a lifeline.

  “Why are we whispering?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I hear someone moving.”

  “So do I.”

  I halted and turned off my flashlight.

  “For goodness’ sakes, don’t do that,” Holly said.

  “Look over there,” I said, pointing ahead to the beam from another flashlight. “Who’s here?” I called out.

  “It’s just me, Maria Hall,” a woman’s voice called back. “I’ll keep talking and you keep walking toward my voice. It’s like a smelly maze down here. I can’t even tell how big it is. I think I’ve been walking in circles.”

  As we started forward, I turned on my flashlight and scanned the floor, certain I was about to trip over an old barrel of bootleg whiskey or a nest of mice. The dust and mold tickled my nose, and I was considering turning back when we finally found Maria, the woman who had demanded her own flashlight before venturing downstairs. Standing in the center of a partially walled-off section of the basement, she directed her flashlight in my eyes and then quickly lowered it.

  “I’m glad to see real flesh-and-blood human beings,” she said. “Everyone disappeared. I can’t hear them, can you? It’s as if they left already. And it stinks like an old gym sock down here.” She laughed, but the anxiety in her voice was almost palpable.

  “I don’t hear the banging sound,” I said. “When did it stop?”

  “The last time I heard it was at the top of the stairs,” Maria said. “I’ve been trying to find out where that light is coming from. See it over there?”

  When Maria cast her flashlight behind her, I noticed a slight tremor in her hand, and when her other hand rose to her face, her fingers quivered slightly as she brushed the headband holding back her dark hair.

  “It must be a ceiling fixture,” I said. “The light looks stationary. How about going back upstairs?”

  “Conyer has the recorder,” she said. “I need to make sure he got something before I go back up or Shane will kill me.”

  “Listen,” Holly said, grasping my arm.

  Suddenly I heard the clanging noise again, only more distant this time. “It doesn’t seem to be coming from the basement. Or at least not this part of the basement.” I directed my light at the ceiling and found a long line of ductwork running the length of the room before angling around the corner. “There isn’t any noise coming from this duct, and if it was coming from another duct, wouldn’t it echo through all the ducts?”

  “Who’s doing that?” Maria said, anger working its way into her voice. “Someone’s messing around with us.”

  “Quiet you two,” Holly said, still holding my arm. “Something’s moving.”

  I pointed my flashlight in the direction of the stationary light and strained to listen.

  When Shane emerged from around the corner, his finger to his lips, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  Maria smacked him on his shoulder. “Stop it! I’m not getting paid enough for this, and it isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny,” he said. “Do you hear that banging sound again?”

  We all nodded.

  “No way, José, is that an air duct,” he said. “But whatever it is, you can’t tell where it’s coming from. It could be coming from the basement or from up above. Maybe pipes or plumbing vents are carrying the noise from one of the floors. You know, the way you can hear bathroom water running two stories above you in an apartment building.”

  Maria turned slowly in place, her flashlight beam arcing over the walls like the revolving beacon in a lighthouse. She was a thin woman, a couple inches shorter than my five foot seven, and her stature must have made her feel vulnerable, adding to her fear. “We have to start the show,” she said, her voice soft and quavering. “We’re cutting this too close and the station’s going to have our heads.”

  “Where is everybody?” Shane said.

  “Probably upstairs, eating all the donuts,” Holly answered. “We’d better get ours before it’s too late.” She’d sensed Maria’s growing panic, I realized, and wanted to give her a face-saving way of making a rapid exit.

  “I’m going to open the show talking about that sound and how we hunted for it,” Shane said. “Bring the audience in on the real sights and sounds of the Grandview.”

  “Goody,” Maria said.

  “You heard it, Maria,” Shane said. “Same as I did.”

  “I hate this,” Maria said.

  I took the lead heading back to the stairs, and Shane, whose curiosity appeared to overwhelm any fear he might have felt, brought up the rear. Two minutes later we were back in room 108, much to the relief of a nerve-wracked Julia.

  “Where have you been? And where’s Arthur?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” I said, looking about the room as if I might come upon the very large Arthur Jago hiding in such a small place. Dustin and Conyer had returned and were already at work, preparing to go on the air, and Shane and Maria had pushed past me into the room, both of them heading for the computer. “Where is Arthur? I thought he was staying here with you.”

  “He poured me a cup of coffee, said he had to go somewhere important, and that’s the last I saw of him,” Julia said. “I was sitting here by myself until Dustin and Conyer showed up.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Conyer’s had three cinnamon-honey rolls just since I’ve been here. I don’t know where he’s putting it, but I expect his stomach to burst at any moment. We may have to clear the room.”

  “Arthur sounded like he intended to wait with you until we got back,” Holly said.

  “Well, he didn’t,” Julia said. “What if the lights had gone out? Didn’t I say this would happen? Sitting here listening to that clanging all by myself, wondering who might be creeping down the hall, coming toward this room.”

  “Quiet, please,” Dustin called, his forefinger in the air. “Five seconds.” At the count of five, he pointed at Shane.

  “Good evening, listeners, and welcome to this special edition of the Shane Rooney Show,” Shane said. “We’re coming to you live from the Grandview Hotel on the fiftieth anniversary of the mysterious and unsolved murder of Herbert Purdy. Fifty years ago tonight, a traveler on his way to the mountains met his untimely death. Some say Purdy still walks the halls of the Grandview. Does he? I can tell you this much. Moments ago, my crew and I heard unidentified sounds coming from the dark basement of this hotel.” He paused, letting his audience savor that juicy bit of news.

  In that moment of silence, a shriek cut through the air.

  Shane jumped in his seat, and Maria jerked and spun toward the sound.

  “What on earth?” Dustin said, irritated by the interruption.

  When another shriek sounded, Julia dug her fingers into my arm.

  “Where is that coming from?” Conyer said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  “Sorry for the unintended broadcast break, folks,” Shane said into the microphone. “But how’s that for atmosphere? Were you able to hear that? A scream in the night. We’ll be right back.” He pushed a button on h
is microphone and rushed for the door, steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

  It took only seconds to find the source of the screams. At the far end of the hall, a shaking Connie Swanson was standing with her hands to her mouth. “He’s in the library,” she said, her voice now reduced to a raspy whisper.

  At first I saw nothing but chairs and bookshelves. Shane and Dustin maneuvered around me into the library, and I followed. A moment later we were all staring at a very still and obviously dead Arthur Jago in a high-backed armchair, an open book across his legs, a look of terror etched on his face. When Shane touched him, he slumped forward.

  “That’s a knife in his back,” Holly said. “Someone stabbed him.”

  A wood-handled knife protruded from the middle of his upper back. I turned, put a hand on Holly’s shoulder, and then shot a look at Julia in the hall, warning her to stay out.

  “Connie! Where are you?”

  Ian Swanson called out again, and I saw him outside the door, dashing to his wife’s side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “He’s dead, Ian. Arthur is dead.”

  Ian stared at his wife as though he had trouble comprehending her simple words. “Did he have a heart attack?”

  “Someone killed him,” Connie breathed, her voice again no more than a whisper. “Stabbed him. That’s the kitchen knife we were looking for.”

  Ian walked slowly into the room, his eyes shooting from Shane to Dustin and finally to the armchair. He gasped.

  Shane glanced at his wristwatch and raked his fingers through his hair. “All right, now. Someone call the police or sheriff—whichever it is out here.”

  “Police,” I said. “Technically, we’re in Juniper Grove.”

  “Right, then,” Shane said. “The commercials are almost over. I have to get back on the air.”

  “You can’t do that,” Maria said from the doorway.

  “I can’t leave dead air,” Shane said.

  “He’s right,” Dustin said. “I’m going back to the console.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Maria said, gaping as Shane and Dustin raced off. “What are you going to say?” she shouted.

  Ian retreated to the hallway, but Holly and I lingered in the library. My eyes roamed the room, searching for clues, trying to memorize every detail. There was something more than a little odd about the scene before me, starting with the book on Arthur’s lap. I glanced up. “Has anyone called the police?”

  “I will right now,” Ian said. He took his wife’s hand and pulled her away from the door. “Let’s go to the front desk, Connie.”

  “I’m going back to the show,” Maria said. “I don’t have a choice.” She slunk away, seemingly embarrassed by the necessary deference to her job.

  I waited for the sound of Maria’s footsteps to fade and then turned to Holly. “The book on Arthur’s lap was put there by the killer.”

  “Was it?” Julia said, stepping just inside the door.

  “How can you tell?” Holly said.

  “First, it’s open to the exact middle, just where someone setting a scene would open it without thinking. Second, even if Arthur had been reading that book, how did it magically remain on his lap through the attack? And third, why would Arthur leave Julia to go read a book in the library?”

  “He wouldn’t,” Julia said, nodding in agreement. “When he left, he said he had to do something important. He emphasized that it was important.”

  I angled my head to read the book’s title at the top of open page. “The Best Slow Cooker Recipes,” I said aloud.

  “There’s no way he was reading that,” Holly said. “The killer grabbed the nearest book.”

  I glanced at the shelves directly behind the chair. “There,” I said, pointing to a book-sized slot on one shelf.

  “We need Chief Gilroy out here right now,” Julia said.

  An instant later the lights went out.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Holly said.

  CHAPTER 4

  Someone down the hall shouted, and I thought I heard Ian yell back, but from where, I couldn’t tell. In the dark, sound seemed to have no point of origin. “It must be the storm,” I said. “Maybe a tree came down on a power line.”

  “Unless someone cut the lights,” Holly said. “Do you have a flashlight app on your phone?”

  “If I had, I would have used it on the stairs. Julia, are you there?”

  “I’m in the doorway, and I’m not moving a single inch,” she said.

  I fumbled my way to the far wall of the library and flung aside the drapes. Though snow clouds obscured the moon, some light reflected off the snow, enabling me to make my way back to Holly without cracking my shins on the furniture. “I’m calling Gilroy,” I said, taking my phone from my jeans pocket. The single reception bar didn’t bode well, but I tried the call anyway.

  “I can’t get through,” I said after a minute. “I wonder if the land lines are down.”

  Holly tried her cell phone but didn’t fare any better.

  “There’s a murderer in this house, and the lights have gone off,” Julia said in a strangely calm voice.

  “We know that, Julia,” Holly said.

  “I’m just stating the facts.”

  “We don’t need you to do that. We’re well aware.”

  “You know what?” I said. “We’re fine. Connie and Ian called the police before the lights went out.”

  “If they were able to,” Julia said. “Do you hear that?”

  “Not again,” Holly moaned.

  “It’s not banging, it’s . . . footsteps. Where are they coming from?”

  I made my way to the door, taking Holly with me. “It’s impossible to tell where sounds are coming from in this house.”

  “Ladies?”

  “Shane?” I called.

  “That’s me. I’m feeling the wall, heading for you. We’re off the air until we get the power back.”

  “Doesn’t the hotel have a generator?” Holly said.

  “We’ll soon find out,” I said, squinting down the hall. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw a black form groping the walls, moving our way.

  “The hall’s darker than room 108,” Shane said. “Be careful when you walk back to your rooms, ladies. I tripped over a rug and almost fell on my face.”

  “Where are the flashlights?” I said.

  “The crew is guarding them jealously,” Shane replied. “Couldn’t pry them out of their hands.” When he reached the library door, I saw his face in the meager light from the windows. I didn’t know if he was putting on an act for our benefit, but he appeared unflappable, almost as though he’d seen dead men in black-as-night libraries before.

  “I thought you should know I contacted the station about Arthur,” he said. “You know, to get guidance. So one way or the other, the police know what happened. It’ll take time for them to get here in the storm, but they’ll be here.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” Julia said.

  “Did the station want you to keep broadcasting?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah, the manager did. I told the audience there’d been an incident, but I didn’t say what. Keep ’em guessing. That’s more provocative than telling them what happened. Plus, that way I don’t have to announce Arthur’s death over the air. That’s a no-good way for relatives to find out. Though I don’t even know if he has relatives in the area. Do you?”

  I looked at Holly.

  “I don’t,” Holly said. “We talked business when we got together, which wasn’t very often. I was thinking a minute ago that I didn’t know Arthur very well at all, and he was so supportive of me.”

  “He liked supporting you,” I said.

  “He enjoyed your eclairs, I know that,” Shane said.

  “I would like to get one of your flashlights, if you don’t mind,” Julia said. “There’s no point in everyone in that room having one.”

  “A woman who speaks her mind,” Shane said. “Follow me.”

  I shut th
e library door, and the four of us made our way down the hall. I linked arms with Julia, and together we took small, elderly steps, trying not to trip over a rug or each other’s feet. As we neared room 108, the hall became brighter and Julia’s grip on my arm became less talon-like.

  “Here we go, ladies,” Shane said. “One of you guys hand me a flashlight if you can spare it.”

  Conyer reluctantly gave his flashlight to Shane. I guessed that he and Maria were both low on the totem pole compared to Dustin, but Maria was clinging to her flashlight for dear life. She wasn’t about to give it up.

  “Ma’am,” Shane said, transferring the flashlight to Julia.

  “Thank you,” Julia said. “And thank you, Conyer.”

  Conyer shrugged.

  “What’s your name, dear?”

  Conyer looked confused. “Conyer.”

  “I mean your last name. It’s nice to know.”

  “In case we all die?” Maria said.

  “Wetzel,” Conyer said. “Rhymes with pretzel.”

  “Yes, I can hear the rhyme for myself, thank you.”

  “I suggest we conserve battery power,” Shane said. “Just one of the flashlights on, all right? Maria? Point yours at the ceiling.”

  Everyone but Maria dutifully turned their flashlights off, and Maria pointed hers upward. “It works,” she said, amazed at the amount of light bouncing off the ceiling.

  “Reflection and a white ceiling,” Shane said.

  It felt as though it had been ages since I’d seen the Swansons, and I was beginning to worry. Not just about them, but about the rest of us. Someone in this hotel was a murderer, and as Julia kept pointing out, we were literally in the dark. “Where are the Swansons?” I said.

  “That’s a good question,” Maria answered. “Aren’t they supposed to be taking care of us? Like giving us more flashlights and hot drinks?”

  “Or turning on a generator,” Holly said. “Where are they? They should be caring for their guests.”

  “I really don’t like this,” Maria said, as though any of us did.

  Shane plopped down on the room’s bed. “If we stick together, we’ll be fine.”