by Mae Fox
Susan screamed again.
Julie rushed over to Kenneth. “What’s wrong with her?” She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 911.
He shook his head. “Her pulse is fast, and her breathing is shallow.”
“Does anyone know CPR?” Liam asked.
Kenneth shot him a look.
“Right. You’re a doctor. Sorry.”
Julie relayed the information to the dispatcher, who promised to send an ambulance immediately. She hung up the phone and looked at the older woman. Her eyes were closed; she looked like she was asleep.
“Oh my,” Sadie gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. “This is terrible.”
Everyone hovered around, but Kenneth motioned them back. “Give her some room.”
“Has she had a heart attack?” Carrie asked.
“It appears so, but I’m a podiatrist. And it’s been a long time since med school.”
“Wait!” Sadie grabbed Joyce’s handbag and started rifling through the contents. “Joyce is allergic to peanuts. Maybe she accidentally ate one.”
“Could this be anaphylactic shock?” Julie asked Kenneth. She was no doctor, but it really looked like a heart attack to her. And Joyce was no spring chicken. Plus, Hannah was the most careful person there was; if Joyce had a peanut allergy, she knew about it.
“Here.” Sadie found the EpiPen and held it toward Kenneth. Her hand was shaking.
“I’ve never seen anaphylaxis look like this,” he mused, his hand still on her pulse. “There’s no swelling or rash of any kind.”
“Please,” Sadie said, tears in her eyes. “If you wait too long, she’ll certainly die.”
Kenneth hesitated but then took the pen and administered the shot into Joyce’s thigh just as Hannah entered with a shocked look on her face.
“Were there peanuts in the meal?” Julie demanded.
“Of course not,” Hannah offered. “Joyce is allergic.”
Poison sprang to Julie’s mind, and she pushed the thought away. She couldn’t jump to conclusions. She wouldn’t.
The bell rang from the front of the inn followed by heavy footsteps.
“The ambulance is here,” Liam said from the doorway. “I’ll direct them back.”
Joyce’s eyelids fluttered a bit, but for the most part, she was as still as the dead.
“Clear some room,” the EMT ordered.
Everyone took a step back and then another as they started to work on Joyce.
Julie said a little prayer that the woman would be OK. For her sake, for Sadie’s sake, and for Millie’s sake. Two dead bodies in one weekend were more than anyone should have to face.
The EMTs loaded Joyce into the ambulance, and with Sadie riding along, rushed her to the hospital.
Even though dinner was barely half over, no one seemed willing to continue to eat. Whether they were upset about Joyce or afraid for themselves, Julie didn’t ask. A poisoning would surely be the icing on the disaster weekend cake.
Susan went up to her room, dragging her husband reluctantly behind. Gregory started for the front door, mumbling about getting something decent to eat, and Liam headed for the stairs with the preoccupied look in his eyes that he often got. Only Carrie remained in the tearoom with Julie and Shirley.
“Would it be all right if I worked on the quilt a little more?” Carrie asked in her soft voice.
“I don’t see why not,” Julie replied. Everyone had their own way of working through stress and bad times. If stitching helped Carrie, then Julie wasn’t about to tell her she couldn’t quilt. After all, that was the real driving force behind the Quilt Haus Inn.
Carrie smiled, and her entire face lit up. “Great. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”
Suddenly there was something very familiar about her, but Julie couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The girl’s smile was similar to another that Julie had seen before.
She sighed. Maybe it was because Carrie reminded her so much of Hannah. Whatever it was, Julie couldn’t shake the strong sense of déjà vu as she made her way into the kitchen.
She found Hannah sitting on one of the stools at the island, biting her lip as she thumbed through a large cookbook. Either she was looking for something, or she was exercising her page-turning muscles. Flip, flip, flip.
“How is she?” Hannah asked, eyes on the cookbook.
“She was stable when they took her.”
“Do they know what caused her … whatever it was that happened?”
Julie shook her head. “I think it was a heart attack. But we won’t know much of anything until tomorrow.”
Hannah nodded, her shoulders stiff with worry.
“So, you knew that Joyce was allergic to peanuts?”
“Of course,” Hannah answered, pulling her eyes from the book. “There’s a place for that kind of information on the registration form. Plus, I double-check with all of our guests before their arrival in case I need to do any special ordering.”
Julie remembered that there was a place on the registration form about allergies and special requests. Hannah was just so competent that Julie had pretty much not given the food another thought since taking the innkeeper job.
“And nothing had peanuts in it tonight?”
Hannah frowned. “Of course not.”
“I’m sorry. I’m only asking for when Detective Frost interrogates me.” Julie looked around the kitchen to see if anything looked amiss. “I know I’m being paranoid here, but if there were peanuts in her food, and you didn’t put them there—”
“Then someone is trying to kill off all our guests.”
“Judging from how everyone stopped eating after the incident,” Julie said, “I think that’s what they all suspect.”
“Too bad,” Hannah said with a pointed look at the wet-bottom shoofly pies she had made to cap off the Amish-theme dinner.
“Have you noticed anything weird going on recently in the kitchen?” Julie asked.
“Just that Gregory guy poking around.” Hannah made a face.
“But nothing in here? Nothing was moved or missing?”
“Things are always moved and missing.”
“Oh?” Julie asked.
“Inga.”
The one word was all the explanation Julie needed. “Right.”
“Everything that’s happened,” Hannah said. “It’s too much to be a coincidence. Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Julie said. “Alice’s death, the snake, the journal, and now this.”
“Do you think someone is trying to put Millie out of business?”
“I’m not sure.” Julie broke off a chunk of the crusty French bread sitting near Hannah’s elbow. “But I knew this murder mystery weekend was a bad idea.”
“That bread is for tomorrow’s breakfast, you know.”
Julie shot her an apologetic grin. “Sorry. I guess I’m turning into a nervous eater.”
“Now that concerns me.”
“That I’m eating?” Julie asked.
“No, that you’re nervous.”
And she would be until they got word back from the hospital that Joyce was OK. Julie hated the thought of the woman being seriously ill. And stories like this could break an inn’s reputation. She couldn’t imagine her guilt if the Quilt Haus Inn went down the tubes on her watch.
“Will you let me know when Sadie calls?” Hannah asked.
“Definitely. Thanks for the bread.” Julie headed for the tearoom. If anyone had seen anything noteworthy, it would be Shirley.
TEN
Julie found Shirley straightening up the tearoom, preparing to close it for the evening. She helped the energetic redhead sweep the floor and wipe down all the tables. After all, she couldn’t very well ask too many questions with Carrie sitting right there.
Finally, the young girl stood and stretched, stifling a yawn even though it was barely eight o’clock. “I guess I’d better be getting to bed.”
“So early?” Shirley asked. “A young thing like you s
hould be out kicking up her heels and having a good time.”
Carrie smiled. She really was a pretty girl, once you took away the huge glasses and baggy, librarian-gone-wrong clothing. “Oh, I have those nights too. But tonight I want to read a little; then I’ll hit the hay.”
“What are you reading?” Julie asked. With any luck the girl would say, “The Civil War journal I stole from your office.”
Carrie blushed. “Romeo and Juliet.”
Not the answer Julie had expected. “Really?”
“I adore that story.” Shirley sighed and then made a face. “Except for the end. It could have ended much better. All that death.”
“Don’t ruin it for me,” Carrie said.
Julie blinked. Is she serious? Who doesn’t know how Romeo and Juliet ends?
“I’ve read that play so many times,” Shirley continued, the whimsical tone of her voice taking over.
“I read it in high school English class,” Julie said. “I remember that the boys hated it.”
“This is a first for me,” Carrie admitted.
“Seriously?” Shirley gasped. “Oh, honey, you have been missing out.”
“You didn’t read it in school?” Julie asked.
Carrie shrugged. “I, um, was mostly homeschooled. My tutor … I mean, my mother didn’t think it was something I needed to experience at the time.”
“Well, you’re reading it now, dear, and that’s all that matters.” Shirley patted the girl’s arm reassuringly. “Never too late.”
Carrie smiled. “I guess. Good night.”
“Good night,” Julie murmured, wondering more and more what the girl’s true story was. Too many things about her didn’t add up.
“What is it?” Shirley asked after Carrie had left the room. “You’ve been hovering all night, waiting to ask me something. So go ahead.”
“Aside from the obvious,” Julie said, “have you noticed anything unusual this weekend?”
“Define unusual.”
Julie shrugged. “Strange behavior. Anyone sneaking around. Weird noises.”
Shirley shook her head. “I’m seeing the same things you are, I suppose. Poor Susan is putting on a brave face but looks like she’s about to have a nervous breakdown any minute. Kenneth is having the time of his life despite his wife’s anxiety, and Liam locks himself in his room every chance he gets. I wonder what he does in there,” she mused.
Julie wasn’t ready to let Liam’s secret slip. He seemed like an honest enough guy in spite of his little white lie about his name. She would keep his true identity a secret for now.
“Carrie seems sweet enough,” Shirley continued. “Sadie and Joyce are both nice as pie.”
“Dare I ask your thoughts on Gregory?”
Shirley pressed her lips together. “My mama always said if you couldn’t say something kind about a body, don’t say anything at all.”
“But?”
“That man is cranky,” Shirley said. “All the time.”
Truer words were never spoken. But Shirley wasn’t saying anything that Julie didn’t already know.
“Just continue to keep an eye out for anything unusual, will you please?” Julie asked.
Shirley nodded, her hair glinting like molten lava beneath the ceiling lights. “You bet.”
Julie left the tearoom and went straight to her office. She had a little time before bed to look for the journal again and possibly do a little more online research to find out something about Carrie.
Or maybe I should just corner the timid blonde and question her outright. Julie shook her head as Detective Frost’s earlier words floated through her suspicious mind: “Crime will do that to you.”
Julie flipped on the light in her office and gasped. Stunned, she stared at the mess before her.
The room had been ruthlessly ransacked. Books lay scattered all over the floor. Her desk drawers were pulled out, their contents dumped to the side like trash. Even her trash can had been dumped and its contents obviously rifled through.
She shivered. Who could have done this? And when?
Julie refused to believe it could be one of her staff. With the exception of Hannah, they had all been here long before she had. And Julie had known Hannah for years. No, it had to be one of the guests. But who? And when could they possibly have found the time?
Thinking about it more, Julie had to admit that it had been a distracting evening. Perhaps someone did it during the drama at dinner. The ambulance could have attracted someone from the outside. Regardless of the answer, one thing was certain: She had to call the police again.
Reluctantly, Julie picked up her phone and dialed the all-too-familiar non-emergency number.
Dispatch promised to send someone right out.
Julie hung up with a sigh. Her fingers itched to clean up the mess, but that would have to wait. The police needed to see the room in all of its chaotic glory.
“Holy cow!” Hannah exclaimed behind her. “What happened in here?”
“I can only assume someone was looking for something.” Julie brushed past Hannah and walked the short distance down the hall to the library and peered inside.
Everything in the room appeared to be in proper order.
“That’s quite a deduction,” Hannah drawled.
Julie shot her an annoyed look as she headed back to her office. “I don’t know what they could possibly be after. Everyone already knows that the journal is missing.”
“Maybe whoever took it hid it in here and came back for it,” Hannah suggested.
“Why would they tear everything apart trying to find it? They would know exactly where they put it.”
“True,” Hannah said. “Whoever did this either wanted something else or hadn’t heard the book was stolen.”
Julie nodded.
Shirley’s voice drifted into the office as her footsteps drew closer. “Right this way, officer.” She poked her head in the door. “Julie, did you call the pol—my stars! What happened in here?”
“That’s what I’m hoping the police can help me figure out.”
Shirley stepped sideways to let the uniformed officer squeeze by. “But are you OK, dear?”
“I’m fine, Shirley. Thanks.”
“When did you discover the room in this state?” the officer asked. He was young—almost too young—with light brown hair and tawny eyes like a hawk’s. Had it not been for those keen eyes, she might have turned him around on the spot and sent him back to his car.
Where are they getting these babies to investigate crimes?
“I came in here about fifteen minutes ago,” she replied. “And this is what I found.”
“What were you doing at the time?”
“Preparing to finish some work before I went to bed.”
“I see.” The officer wrote something in the little notebook he held—the same kind Detective Frost carried around. “What sort of work?”
Julie felt her patience slip a notch. This weekend had been nothing but drama from beginning to end. “The usual stuff.”
She was waiting for him to ask her to explain that answer when an all-too-familiar voice sounded from the hall. “If you wanted to see me again, you didn’t have to go to such lengths.”
“Detective Frost.” Julie forced a polite smile to her lips. “So nice to see you this evening. What’s it been—four hours?”
Frost stepped into the office. “Anything missing?”
“I haven’t checked. I didn’t want to disturb any clues or fingerprints.”
“Any idea who could have done this?” Frost scanned the room. Julie was sure he didn’t miss a single detail.
“I don’t think it was the same person who stole the journal.”
“Really? And what makes you so sure of that?”
Julie shrugged. “Why would the thief do this if they already had the journal?”
“Hmmm. And there’s nothing else of great importance in here?” He raised his eyebrows in that infuriating way he had.
> “Accounting records, registration papers, that sort of thing.”
“What about a checkbook or business credit cards?”
“That’s all locked in the safe,” Julie said.
Frost shot her a skeptical look.
“It’s locked.” She pointed to the closed door of the tiny wall vault. “May I?”
He fished in his pocket and then held out a pair of latex gloves to her.
Julie pulled the gloves on as she picked her way across the office, trying her best not to step on anything that looked important. These were Millie’s paper records scattered across the floor, and she wanted to return them to their proper homes as soon as possible. And without footprints.
She nimbly ran through the combination and opened the safe. She had been careful to make sure that it was shut after the detective left that afternoon. “Yep, everything is still here.”
“If there’s nothing missing, we can write it up as vandalism or an attempted robbery. But it’s not officially a burglary if nothing has been stolen.”
Of course not.
“It’ll take me a while to get everything back in order.” Julie cringed at the thought. It was going to take hours.
“Take some pictures,” Frost told the uniformed officer. “Then dust the safe.” He pulled a small kit from his jacket pocket and handed it to the officer. Then he turned back to Julie. “Walk around; see if anything seems to be missing or out of place.”
She looked pointedly at the mess that was once her neat and orderly office.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
Julie studied the debris on the floor, trying to match it to her memory of the ledgers and books that had once been up on the shelves.
“Why did you call for an ambulance earlier?” Frost asked.
“One of the guests had a problem at dinner.” It was the safest answer she could come up with.
“That’s some problem if you needed an ambulance.” Frost eyed her steadily.
“How did you know—?”
He shot her that patronizing smile again. “I make it my business to know. So, what happened?”
“We’re still waiting on word from the hospital,” Julie said. “But Joyce Fillmore had some sort of an attack while she was eating.”
