Coming Home: Baytown Boys Series

by Maryann Jordan

  As soon as that thought hit her mind she was immediately contrite, hanging her head. Poor Mr. Dumfries…and oh, Jesus…his wife!

  Straightening up, taking a fortifying breath, she went back downstairs to her kitchen, now being dissected by Sam. He looked at her sympathetically as he bagged up the food she had served from breakfast and anything from the snack drawer available to guests. Ginny walked in with the remains of the cobbler in her hands and set it on the counter.

  “We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Officer Ginny Spencer.”

  Tori accepted her hand and returned the pretty officer’s greeting. “Is there anything you need from me?”

  “Sam, bag this please,” Ginny directed, before turning back to Tori. “Can you tell me about the cobbler here?”

  “Um…” Tori’s eyes sought Ginny’s, uncertain what she was supposed to say.

  “Tell you what,” Ginny elaborated, “why don’t you simply explain the food service here and that will help us out.”

  “Okay,” Tori agreed, looking around the kitchen as though seeing it for the first time. “The kitchen is for me, and the guest rooms have a mini-fridge in each one. I do keep a snack pantry in the dining room, for when guests get the munchies. And will sometimes leave goodies on the dining room table for them. Like that cobbler,” she nodded her head toward the half-empty baking dish.

  “So they aren’t supposed to eat the food in here?” Ginny clarified.

  Shaking her head, Tori said, “No, but sometimes they do. In fact, I had to chase Mr. Dumfries out yesterday.”

  “Do you prepare food in here for them at any time?”

  “The guests are provided breakfast…that’s part of their payment.”

  “What time is that served?”

  “Between eight and nine in the morning. I place it in my grandmother’s silver warming trays and have it on the dining room table. The guests serve themselves…um, I have coffee and juice there also.”

  “So the guests aren’t served individual plates of food to their tables?” Ginny queried.

  “No.”

  “So she couldn’t have poisoned his food directly,” Sam said.

  Tori whipped her head around so fast her ponytail smacked her cheek. “What? Me? Poison—”

  “Sam!” Ginny growled, shooting him a death glare.

  Sam shot Tori an apologetic gaze and muttered, “Sorry, Ms. Bradford. I wasn’t implying it was you. Could have been the wife…or one of the other guests.”

  The room began to darken as Tori’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.

  *

  “Come on, Tori, baby, wake up.”

  The words came from far off, but slowly crept into her consciousness as her eyes fluttered open. Mitch’s face was directly in her line of vision, worry lines emanating from the sides of his eyes. Her hand involuntarily reached up to smooth away the chiseled creases.

  “Babe? You with me?” His voice caressed her as she blinked a few more times, awareness crashing back.

  Bolting upright, she was trapped by him as she reclined on the living room sofa, curled on her side as his hip sat in the crook of her body. His hand jumped to her shoulders quickly, stilling her movement.

  “Whoa, slow down, babe. You hit your head pretty hard when you passed out. I want the doc to check you out.”

  Her eyes cut over to a young man standing in her living room, watching her from over Mitch’s shoulder. His dark hair, slightly long and curled on the ends, stood up at odd angles as though he had just gotten out of bed. He probably did.

  The new man in the room gave Mitch a shove on the shoulder, saying, “Let me in, man. Let me check her out.”

  Mitch reluctantly stood and stepped back, but just enough to allow the doctor to slide in closely.

  “We haven’t met yet. I’m Dr. Turner. William Turner. I’m fairly new in town and work with Dr. Warren at the Baytown clinic. I hear you’ve had quite an exciting night.”

  His voice was warm and soothing, opposed to the vibe coming off Mitch. Before she could speak, the doctor reached behind her, his hand gently probing the side of her head.

  Wincing, she jerked and he apologized. “Do you faint often?”

  “Only at the sight of blood…or needles,” she replied. “I…I remember being in the kitchen and the room began to sway.”

  Nodding, he checked her eyes, pulse, and blood pressure. “You seem to be in good health. I have a feeling that anxiety, and probably dehydration, caused you to faint. If this is the first time, then I’m not as worried about the fainting as I am the bump on your head from when you hit the floor. I’m leaving you with a list of things to watch out for. I want you to rest and make sure to—”

  “Miss! Miss!” One of the couples was dressed and standing at the front counter in the entryway. “We’re checking out now and want to make sure we get a refund for the rest of the week that we won’t be here.”

  Pushing past the doctor and Mitch, Tori rushed over. “I understand this was upsetting, but please don’t leave. I assure you—”

  “We are leaving! A man was poisoned right across the hall from us! We’ve been up all night, being interviewed by the police!”

  Shoulders slumping, she nodded as she took the keycard from them and watched them as they walked to the front door, luggage rolling along behind them.

  Mitch stepped up to the couple and said, “Until we have completed our investigation, you will need to remain in the area.”

  The man rose to his full height but still had to look up into Mitch’s unhappy face. “Fine. We will be at the Baytown Hotel for the rest of the week.” With a parting glare at Tori, he and his wife walked out.

  Mitch turned around to move toward Tori, but two more couples were coming down the stairs, wanting to check out as well. He watched, helpless and hating the emotion, as Tori went through the obligatory motions.

  Ginny, Grant, and Sam walked into the front foyer as well, watching the last of the guests leave. As Tori stared dumbly at the crowd, she recognized their sympathetic expressions, which only made her tears fall more.

  Mitch stalked over, pulling her into his embrace. Tucking her tightly against his body, he looked over her head to give instructions. “Sam, make sure to bag the food in the Dumfries’ room as well and get the samples to the coroner’s office until we know more as to what needs to be sent to the lab. Ginny and Grant, I’ll meet you in the office in a few minutes.” The three officers left the inn and Dr. Warren walked over to Mitch.

  “I’ll check on her again this afternoon,” he said softly, patting Tori’s back.

  Mitch nodded and, after he left, he walked her back over to the sofa. Settling her down, he crouched in front of her, his hands at her jaw. “Tori,” he called softly, drawing her anguished eyes back to him. “I hate like hell to leave, but I have to. I’m calling Katelyn and Jillian to come stay with you until I can come back here.”

  “I…how…?”

  “I don’t know. But we’ll find out what happened and then you can get your life back.”

  Her gaze shot up to his and she said, “I didn’t poison him—”

  “I know that, babe, but I have to find out if he was poisoned and, if so, how. And I need to find out who did it. Let me do my job and then you can get your Inn back.”

  Her gaze left his as it wandered over the room. “I…I have no guests.”

  She turned her tearful eyes back to him and he swore he felt the punch right in his heart. “I know, and I promise to find out what happened. Then we’ll work on damage control for the inn.”

  Kissing the top of her head, he walked out, hating himself for leaving her arms. Standing at his jeep, looking back to the peaceful inn, thinking of all the wonderful times he had here as a child and the beautiful woman hurting inside, his jaw tightened in anger. No one gets away with murder in my town. And, especially, no one messes with my girl!

  Chapter 12

  Stopping by Baytown’s Medical Clinic later in the day, Mitch
walked straight back to Dr. Turner’s office. The older man appeared fresh even after the long night and morning he had.

  “Whatcha got for me, Doc?”

  “I had his body taken to the morgue at the North Herron Hospital. My initial evaluation is the strong possibility of poison in gestation, so the medical examiner there worked on the autopsy today. I went up late this morning to work with her and I’ve got the initial report right here.”

  He handed a file to Mitch but, before Mitch could open it, Dr. Turner began to summarize. “Internal examination agrees with the possibility of cyanide poisoning, and she agreed that the time of death corresponds with the wife’s account.”

  Mitch said, “The wife claims that she had her husband on a strict diet and he never strayed from it.” Catching the doctor’s raised eyebrow, he smirked. “Yeah, I know. I also know that Tori said she had to remind him several times that the kitchen was her domain and he wasn’t supposed to forage.”

  “According to his stomach contents, he had eaten some of the blueberry cobbler late at night, so we can assume his wife must have been asleep then.”

  Nodding, Mitch agreed. “She said she takes sleeping pills, so I’m guessing either last night the call of the dessert was too much of a temptation or her husband made a habit of sneaking food at night.”

  “Had others eaten any cobbler?” Dr. Turner asked. “Because the poison acts fairly fast, if is was indeed cyanide.”

  “According to the other guests, a few of them had some early in the evening, but it was left on the table, open, so anyone could have gotten to it.”

  “Any idea who?”

  Mitch rubbed his beard. “The most obvious would be his wife. She appears to be the only one there who knew him and therefore the only one with motive.”

  “How’s Tori?”

  Sighing heavily, he replied, “With her guests checking out, she reeling from it all.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.” Nodding, Mitch headed back to his jeep. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was almost three o’clock. He’d called a meeting for the officers to work the intel they had and was going to have just enough time to get there. Driving, he called Jillian.

  “Hey cuz,” she answered softly.

  He knew Katelyn had spent the morning with Tori before Jillian took over when the bakery rush slowed down. “How’s it going?”

  “Physically? She’s doing okay. Doesn’t seem to have any side effects from a concussion. Emotionally? She’s a mess.”

  “Damn.”

  “I’ve kept her busy, though. We can’t clean the rooms until Grant gives us the go-ahead. I think he’s finishing now, ’cause he said he needed to get to a meeting at the station.”

  “I have no idea how long we’ll be meeting, but can you—”

  “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

  “Thanks, Jillian,” Mitch offered sincerely.

  “Hey…” she replied, gently, “I really like her. I always have. And the two of you together…well, I just wanted to say, it’s perfect.”

  Hanging up, he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, shouting, “Fuck!” All he wanted to do was be with Tori…but until she’s cleared from the investigation, I’ve got to keep my distance.

  *

  Mitch walked into the staff room, immediately getting down to business. “Here’s the initial autopsy report. Dr. Turner said that his initial suspicions seem to be correct, but we’ll know more when the results come back from toxicology. Tissue and blood have been sent to the Virginia Department of Forensic Science. They’ve put a rush on it but it could still take a week to obtain the results. In the meantime, if we go on the medical examiner’s assumption that it was cyanide poisoning, what else have we got?”

  Ginny said, “Mrs. Dumfries was hard to get much out of. Sobbed all the way through the interview, which is understandable. But she was completely unwilling to concede that he might have eaten some of the cobbler, even when the evidence in the vomit was right in front of her.”

  “Does she have an explanation?” Grant asked.

  Rolling her eyes, Ginny said, “She claims the sausage casserole was undercooked yesterday morning and that everyone knows that undercooked meat can contain bacteria that can kill a person.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Mitch shook his head. “So that’s what everyone was hearing and why all the guests checked out.”

  “Partially. Also because I think they were all just upset and scared,” Sam added. “And before you ask, I went through the garbage and retrieved samples from the leftover sausage casserole.”

  “But it was sitting out on the table for everyone. If there was a problem, it wouldn’t just hit one person,” Burt argued. “And certainly not eighteen hours later!”

  “Gotta be the wife,” Grant said. “She had opportunity, she’s the only one who might have had motive.”

  “What’d you get on their finances?” Mitch asked Burt.

  “Retired store manager. She had been a housewife and they retired with a decent nest egg. Not extravagant, but reasonably well off. He did have a nice insurance policy to the tune of one million dollars and she’s listed as his only beneficiary.”

  “Any children? Relatives?”

  Shaking his head, Burt said, “No kids. They have a nephew that’s had to declare bankruptcy, but he lives in Texas and, according to the wife, they haven’t heard from him in a couple of years.”

  “Keep looking into the wife,” Mitch said to Burt. “See what more we can dig up.” Turning to Grant, he asked, “What about the Inn? What did you find?”

  “Nothing, Chief. Absolutely nothing you wouldn’t expect to find. The place is clean, neat, orderly. The cleaning supplies are locked in the pantry in the laundry room. There were no hidden bottles of anything unexpected in the inn proper or in the individual guest rooms.”

  “Sam, what about the kitchen?”

  “I bagged up samples of just about everything poison could be in. It looks like Tori eats light, ’cause the refrigerator did not hold a lot. There were things that she would use to fix the guests breakfast, but other than that, some lunch meat, cheese, some leftover lasagna, and some chicken salad she must have had for lunch. I sent samples to the lab as well.”

  “Okay, obviously this is our first priority. We’ll pull back on the beach shifts and make those only two-hour patrols with one officer, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. Town patrols can stay as usual and the rest of the time we work this case.”

  Mildred stuck her head in the doorway, an irritated expression on her face. “Celia rang from next door. The mayor wants to see you and says it needs to be now. He has a dinner at the clubhouse and doesn’t want to be late.”

  Mitch caught the sympathetic expressions fired his way from his staff as he stood up. Stopping at the door, he turned back and said, “You all did good today. Keep it up.”

  Walking through the back hallway connecting the station with the Mayor’s office in the Municipal Building, Mitch hesitated for a second before pushing the door open. He hoped that the Mayor’s clawing secretary had left for the evening, but it appeared she kept her boss’ hours. Great…just fuckin’ great.

  Celia’s eyes lit as soon as he approached. His attempt to side step her desk and proceed directly to the Mayor’s office was hindered as she hustled on her stilettoes and managed to plaster herself against his side, her long fingernails digging into his arm.

  “Mitch,” she purred. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

  “Ms. Ring, I’ve been doing my job. Now if you’ll excuse me, the Mayor is expecting me.”

  Digging her fingernails in a little deeper, she pouted, “But I thought surely you would make time for me.”

  Seriously? Take a hint, lady. Tired, irritated, and wanting to get to Tori, he carefully grabbed her arm and firmly moved it off his. Glaring down at her surprised expression, he said, “Ms. Ring, you’re the Mayor’s assistant and that is all you’ll ever be to me. N
ow stop the pretense of something happening and let go of my arm.”

  Walking past her as brusquely as his words, he stepped into the office, firmly closing the door behind him.

  Corwin looked up, a scowl on his face. Silas was also in the room, his expression mirroring the Mayor’s. Before Mitch had a chance to speak, Corwin jumped in.

  “A murder? A murder of a vacationer in Baytown? What the hell are you going to do about this?”

  Sighing at the Mayor’s histrionics, Mitch cocked an eyebrow. “I’m going to do my job. We’ve already had an initial autopsy performed and the results, as well as some of the food, have been sent to the lab. We’ve interviewed the wife, the other guests, and Ms. Bradford.”

  “Speaking of Ms. Bradford, my wife tells me that the two of you have been seen together in town. You need to watch your step! I can’t have the Chief of Police cavorting with a possible murder suspect!”

  “We don’t want property values going down because one of our inns can’t be run properly,” Silas added.

  Stalking from the door to Corwin’s desk, Mitch placed his fists on the desk and leaned in. “You let me do the job you hired me to do and keep your mouth shut about suspects and members of this town. The last thing we need is for rumors to run amuck hurting innocent people.” Mitch swung his head around toward Silas, pinning the man with his glare.

  Corwin swallowing deeply, unused to the full anger of a furious man aimed directly at him, backpedaled. “Well,” he blustered, “I didn’t mean to imply that she was guilty. I just meant we have to think about our image. We need to uphold the town’s confidence.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Mitch said, straightening to his full height before heading toward the door. “But, um…you might want to think about your image and the new secretary out there.” Smirking, he took pleasure in seeing Corwin swallow deeply several times more, but noted Silas’ appraising glance. Throwing open the door, he ignored Celia’s stare and headed back to the station, each step bringing rising fury.