Bed and Breakfast and Murder (Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries Book 1)

by Patti Larsen

  Grunt. Where the hell was he, then?

  As luck would have it, when I dragged myself up the drive, half hidden by my car, I caught a glimpse of Dad’s truck in my peripheral vision. My intention to go back into Petunia’s and do my job despite Daisy’s insistence vanished as I leaped behind the wheel and followed him.

  Not because I really wanted to talk to him, nope. Because Dad wasn’t alone in his truck and the blonde hair of the woman in the passenger seat was a far cry from Mom’s dark shade of red.

  Either Dad wasn’t paying attention or I held enough distance between us he didn’t seem to realize I was behind him as he drove out of town. Distracted? By the blonde beside him? They were talking, I could see that much through the back window of his pickup, animatedly, too. The girl’s hands were active, her body half turned toward my father as she spoke.

  He turned off with lots of warning, and I knew exactly where he was heading before he even hit the blinker. The cabin his father left him had been one of those places I’d had a love/hate relationship with as a kid. Love because it was fun to hang out with my father and fish and track animals through the woods. And hate thanks to the fact he cancelled our trips five times out of six because of work.

  I drove past the turn and waited a moment before reversing and following. I kept telling myself I didn’t have to hunt him down like this, I could let him know I was here. That Dad had nothing to hide, nothing. And I was overreacting. But there was a horrible, painful moment when I parked my car, got out, tracked through the woods in time to see Dad get out of his truck and help the blonde from the passenger seat.

  A blonde I knew immediately. Who followed Dad to the cabin and disappeared inside with him.

  Alicia Conway. Oh, Dad.

  I have no idea how I got to the door, how long I pounded on it with my fist before it jerked wide and my father, his big face stunned and then closed, stared down at me. I wanted to punch him as I had the door, to beat on him and scream at him. For cheating on Mom. With a floozy girl who worked for Pete Wilkins.

  Wait a second.

  Dad exhaled, sagged, stepped aside. “You might as well come in,” he said. “It’s time I told you everything.”

  Alicia stood from the rickety wooden bench that bracketed the kitchen table, flushing dark red but not out of guilt. From fear. Her eyes flickered to Dad who waved off her anxiety.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Tell Fee what you’re doing here.”

  “Helping John build a case against Pete,” she said. And started to cry.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Two

  I glared up at Dad who hurried forward, suddenly soft and kind, something I’d never seen from him. He hugged her gently, giant form towering over her, and she clung to him like he was her lifeline.

  What the actual hell and who was this man? Because he was not my father.

  “Alicia’s been working with me for months,” Dad said over her sniffling. “Since Pete hired her to be his assistant.”

  “Did you tell Dad about the drugs?” I glared at Alicia, accusing her while not really knowing for sure if she was connected.

  Dad flinched, looked down at her with a frown. “Drugs?”

  Alicia sobbed again, sinking onto the bench, face in her hands. “It wasn’t me,” she wailed. “It was Pitch.”

  My father looked like she’d gut punched him. “Alicia. If you’ve done anything to jeopardize the case—”

  “Dad.” I hit him with that word. Caught his attention. “There is no case. Pete Wilkins is dead.”

  Alicia gulped while Dad tried to find words to refute me.

  “Pitch is my brother,” she whispered to me. “He thought I could help him make a few extra bucks, to get him out of trouble. Convinced me no one would miss the prescriptions.”

  Dad paled and joined her on the bench. I sat across from them, waited.

  “But Ruth found out,” she hiccupped past her tears. “I thought I’d be fired. Instead, she funneled even more drugs through me to Pitch, blackmailing me into being her mule. Sent me out of town with Pete on regular trips to deliver goods to other dealers.” Alicia turned to Dad with giant eyes and more tears, one slim hand landing on his forearm, vulnerable and weak. “Please, John, I’m sorry. I should have told you. But I was afraid and the drugs had nothing to do with Pete’s fraud around his building sites or the deed signatures.”

  “Did Pete have anything to do with the drugs?” Dad’s normally stern tone and expression were back. Well that was more like it and I didn’t have the creeps anymore.

  Alicia shook her head. “That was all Ruth,” she said. “I’m pretty sure if Pete found out he’d be furious with her. Too risky.” No wonder the poor kid was a wreck. Ruth on one side thanks to her brother, Pete on the other, gross. And Dad bullying her into turning evidence. Wow, she was a lot tougher than I had given her credit for.

  “How did you end up Pete’s assistant then?” If Ruth had a good thing going, why end it?

  “She didn’t trust his side of the other business,” she said. “The fraud and building code violations. The thefts of construction materials. And the property acquisitions.” She shrugged. “While the trips gave me the chance to get the drugs out of state.”

  “So she sent you to be her eyes and ears as well as her mule.” That made sense. “Why did you turn on him?”

  “Jared.” Alicia finally smiled, hand falling from Dad’s arm. He rubbed at the spot where her fingers had been, a faint flash of guilt on his face as he caught my eyes. Boys and their hormones. Mom would kick his butt for being such an idiot about a pretty girl. “I met him and… he’s amazing. Nothing like Pete. I’ve been telling John that.” She seemed keen we both believe her and since I’d had my own dealings with the younger Wilkins, I just nodded for her to go on. “I fell in love with him, and he with me. I’d do anything to help him and this is my only way to do that.” So she was his alibi for sure then. “I was with Jared the night Pete died.” She flushed. “All night.”

  Well, good for them.

  “Okay, Dad,” I said, fixing him with a hard glare. “Your turn. You weren’t fishing with the guys.” He looked away, swallowed as I went on. “Where were you the night Pete died?”

  My father sighed then, elbows on the table, glancing at Alicia. “Out of state,” he said like it hurt him. “Talking to a connection of Pete’s about the construction fraud.”

  “Despite the fact the case was dropped officially,” I said, “and you are no longer sheriff and have no jurisdiction to investigate further.”

  Dad bobbed a nod. And I laughed. That made him flinch then grunt, then grin.

  “Poor Crew,” I said, snickering. “No wonder he’s pissed at us.”

  Dad’s white teeth flashed, wolf like. “Maybe if that boy would use the sense God gave him,” he said. Exhaled deeply. “I’ve been gathering further evidence against Pete, to ensure those who were victimized get justice.”

  “Even after he died.” I nodded. “That’s my dad.”

  Giant relief flooded me, made me a bit giddy. So my father was innocent. That left Aundrea and Ruth Wilkins. “You need to tell Crew where you were, Dad. The state troopers are coming and he’ll be handing over evidence that could point at you.”

  Dad shrugged that off like it didn’t matter. “I can present what I need to prove my alibi if I have to,” he said. Paused, gave me the stink eye. “Can you?”

  That made me laugh again, though with a little less delight. “So we’ve been suspecting each other all along then, have we?”

  Dad didn’t say anything. But Alicia did.

  “I told him you didn’t,” she whispered. “It had to be Ruth.”

  “Or Aundrea?” Why not Pete’s wife?

  Alicia hesitated. “I don’t know about that,” she said, clearly lying.

  I let it go for the moment, told them both about the papers I’d found with Jared, handed over to Crew. Dad took a second to be pissed at me for not bringing them to him before shrugg
ing.

  “What would you do with it, Dad? You’re not sheriff anymore.”

  That wasn’t fair and I regretted the words the second they left my mouth despite the fact they were true. He seemed to deflate, losing his power while Alicia stared back and forth between us with her mouth gaping.

  “You’re right, Fee,” he said, sad and low. “But I really wanted to see this through. I didn’t want this one case hanging over me, you know?”

  I nodded, regret pushing me forward to squeeze his big hand. He squeezed back, smiled a little.

  “Chip off the old blockhead,” he said. “I should never have kept you from law enforcement.”

  Now he told me.

  “Dad,” I said, tears stinging the corners of my eyes, “you’re my hero, no matter what.”

  He blinked, I blinked and we shared a moment. The first one in a long, long time. Wait, ever. Until Alicia cleared her throat and broke it wide open again, stirring the need to snarl at her which I suppressed just in time.

  “What are we going to do?” She again looked at both of us, back and forth, like I might have a plan she hadn’t considered.

  “Nothing.” Dad set both big hands on the table, palms flat, face set. “We’re done. All of us.” He glared at me. “Crew has what he needs, if you’re right about what you handed over. As for Ruth, Alicia’s willing to turn her in for protection. So we’ll see what our new sheriff says about confidential informants and immunity for her and Pitch.”

  He didn’t sound hopeful.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Three

  I leaned in to Dad when Alicia excused herself to use the washroom, watching her go as I spoke.

  “You’re a big idiot,” I said. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “Same,” he said. And sighed. “Never mind,” he winked at me, good humor in his eyes, “you tried to, didn’t you? So, I’ll accept the idiot label. If you’ll admit you thought your old man killed Pete Wilkins.” He seemed highly amused by that.

  “Not as bad as you thinking your daughter did,” I said. Paused. “Or the fact you used to associate with Malcolm Murray.”

  Dad flinched, paled. “What are you talking about?”

  I told him about how I’d followed Simon, the encounter with the old Irishman. I’d seen my dad a lot of things, but never truly afraid. Not until that moment when he grasped my hand, smothering my little one in his big grip, tight and shaking.

  “Promise me,” he said, “you’ll stay away from Malcolm Murray.”

  Alicia returned before I could respond though I’m sure from the startled look I knew crossed my face my father figured out I was about as nervous of The Orange’s owner as he was. Not like I was thinking about hanging out there or anything. But it was clear my father wasn’t done keeping secrets.

  We all got up to leave, Alicia begging off because of a headache. I followed her, Dad striding ahead to the truck, but she paused at the door and bumped into me. I was so surprised by her sudden turn, I stared into her eyes, felt the cold press of metal in my hand before I could react.

  “Be careful if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do,” she whispered. “She’s ruthless. No pun intended.”

  She spun then and hurried to Dad, leaving me to watch them go, to look down after they had at the small key in my hand, etched on one side with the word Office. It looked old enough to be for the main door of the administration area of the nursing home I knew exactly what Alicia was insinuating. And though I’d considered just stopping and walking away, how could I now? Now that I had the means to break into the head nurse/administrator’s office and get the evidence Crew needed to put her away?

  No. I needed to give it to Dad, to the new sheriff. Or the state troopers coming as early as tomorrow. Not sneak off for another breaking and entering session. I highly doubted Ruth would be as kind or understanding as Jared had been.

  Putting civic duty ahead of my own burning need to see this through, I headed instead to the sheriff’s office, my curiosity held in very tight control. Only to find Crew gone for the day and a grinning Robert behind the front desk.

  “Fanny,” my hateful cousin said with a leering grin that did nothing to endear him to me. “Here with more evidence?” He snorted a laugh, glancing into the bullpen where one of the other deputies—the woman who had collected evidence—rolled her eyes at me and went back to her work.

  “Crew’s not here?” His office door stood open.

  “Nope, gone,” Robert said, leaning back to prop his feet up on the desk, arms crossing behind his head. “I can take care of whatever it is you think might be important enough for the sheriff.”

  Like I’d trust him with a blessed thing. “Forget it,” I said. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

  Frustration drove me out the door, down the steps, to the sound of Robert calling after me.

  “See ya, Fanny!”

  I really, really, really hated that nickname. Stood on the sidewalk, staring down at the key in my hand, hating Robert, furious with Dad for chasing me away from what I really loved, if I’d just admit it to myself—law enforcement. And made a terrible, terrible decision.

  The nursing home was the final piece that could prove who killed Pete, I was sure of it. If Alicia was right and Ruth murdered her own brother, there would be a reason for it. And him finding out his horrid sister was selling drugs out of the home would be a massive one. Imagine him trying to blackmail his own sibling? She was scary just from our initial contact and the way Alicia talked about her, well. I could wrap this case up tonight.

  Alicia gave me the key, so she trusted me. Maybe she even knew what I was thinking, that Ruth’s guilt could be proven by a visit to her office. Yes, that had to be it, didn’t it? Alicia gave me the means to end this. But why not give it to Dad?

  Because he was too focused on Pete. Ah, the lies we tell ourselves when we want to be right. One thing I did know, if Ruth found out the state troopers were coming—small town, word had to be getting around—surely she would make sure to dump whatever evidence might incriminate her on the drug thefts. Let alone Pete’s murder. That was it, decision made. My car hiccupped its distress at my choice but I ignored it in favor of courage fed by the need to act.

  My father’s daughter indeed.

  Night was falling by the time I pulled into the driveway, the blue light of dusk casting the last shadows that faded into darkness while I approached the front door of the nursing home like I owned the place and swept inside. I wondered then if this was what Daisy had in mind for my night off and fought a hysterical giggle at the thought. The office door was closed, no light shining within, the foyer empty of all but the soft sounds of horribly recreated pop music on the crackling, tinny speakers.

  There were bound to be security cameras, but I couldn’t worry about that now. The office door gave way under my hand, unlocking smoothly with the key. That made me nervous as I stepped inside and closed the door, breathing a little too heavily. How could I get into Ruth’s inner sanctum if this key was for the main door?

  I needn’t have worried. When I reached the door knob to her personal space, tucking in next to the tall filing cabinet and pile of boxes that were the last remaining possessions of the deceased, the key did its job all over again. I snorted to myself at her lack of originality and cheapskate ways. Two locks, one key. Honestly.

  Muffled voices penetrated the wall to my right, the sound of arguing, low but discernable. One voice was deep, graveled, had to be Ruth. The other? Female, yes. Otherwise I had no idea. But now nervousness really kicked in. What was I thinking? Standing in the darkness of the administrator’s office looking for what exactly?

  And then, like fate was finally on my side, I saw it. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, the big, metal door half open. The safe gaping and waiting for me.

  That meant Ruth was only gone a moment, had likely been distracted and left to deal with whoever it was she talked to. As long as I heard their voices through the thin walls, I
had time. My trusty penlight dangled from my keychain, lighting up the inside of the old fashioned iron safe, filled with paper files and a large plastic envelope I peeked into.

  Pills. A lot of pills in different colors, all sealed into zip lock bags. Ready for Pitch to pick up and distribute or Alicia to carry off out of state? A quick glance at the file at the top of the pile gave me a purchase order, with a second file beneath it doubling that order. Two sets of paperwork, and one giant scam.

  Gotcha.

  My phone on camera, I snapped as many pictures as I could with my hands trembling in eager excitement. The low light and pinpoint of the flash worried me a bit about focus, but this was the best I could do without outright stealing the files and I was sure if Ruth found them missing she’d either disappear too or find a way to dispute the evidence. Like how it was illegally obtained by the owner of a B&B where her dead brother’s drowned body was found?

  Yeah, like that.

  The voices moved, getting louder. Panic struck as I spun toward the office door. Caught a glimpse through the glass of Ruth’s back, and Aundrea Wilkins, red faced and shaking, saying something low and threatening. Trapped and with discovery imminent, I did the only thing I could think of.

  With a faint squeak of fear, Ruth’s voice echoing, “That’s that last I want to hear about this, Aundrea,” heralding her approach about as much as the squelching of her giant sneakers, I tucked under her desk with my arms around my knees and hoped I hadn’t just signed my own death warrant trying to be a hero.

  The main office door closed with a bang, followed by the slam of Ruth’s. Yeah, I was doomed.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Time slowed to a crawl, my heartbeat thudding in my ears, entire body shaking while the squish-squish-squish sound of Ruth’s sneakers drew closer. Any second now she’d pass the edge of her desk, close her safe, turn and—