Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 02 - Inn the Doghouse

by Heather Horrocks

  “Don’t ever ma’am me. Not if you want to retain all your limbs intact.”

  He chuckled.

  A vehicle pulled up out front and a tall, blonde couple entered the front door. They looked to be in their fifties. As they took off their coats, I could see the jeans and sweatshirts they were wearing. Hers was pink, featuring Tinkerbell. His had one of the Despicable Me minions on it. It said, I’m one in a minion.

  The man, who looked vaguely familiar, rolled a large suitcase behind him and the woman carried an oversized purse.

  I welcomed them.

  “Hi,” the man said politely, his voice warm. “We have reservations for this next week.”

  “Where did you come from?” I asked.

  “California,” the pretty woman answered.

  I wasn’t surprised. They looked like they would both be quite at home surfing a big wave off Zuma Beach while listening to the Beach Boys. “Warmer weather there right now than here, I suspect.”

  “Yes. But we wanted to ski and there’s more snow here.”

  “Only the greatest snow on earth.” I got into the check-in screen on my computer. “How did you hear about the Inn?”

  “We have family here in Silver City. In fact, David told us we must be sure to stay here,” the woman said.

  “David?” Surely not.

  “David Weston. He said he cooks for you sometimes,” replied the handsome man who looked familiar. He reminded me of David.

  “David is your son? How wonderful.” So why did I feel such dread? David’s parents were here. In my Inn. And David was leaving for an overnighter.

  Why should I be so worried? They seemed like very nice people.

  I managed a smile. “Welcome to the Who-Dun-Him Inn.”

  The Westons smiled back. “It’s also our anniversary and we wanted to see our only child. So we thought we’d celebrate by coming here and visiting him.”

  David came strolling back through as he spotted his parents. “Mom, Dad! You’re here.”

  They certainly were.

  After David hugged his parents, he pulled back. “You’ve already met Vicki?”

  Mrs. Weston nodded and smiled. “We’ve heard so much about you. We’re thrilled to actually meet you at last.”

  I looked at David and raised an eyebrow in question. I couldn’t help wondering what he had told them.

  “All good, I assure you.” He smiled at his parents. “Well, she really can’t cook. That part was true.”

  “David!” I protested as I turned to his parents. “He’s been giving me cooking lessons, so that isn’t true anymore.”

  He laughed and put an arm around my shoulder casually. His parents noticed and my face flushed warm, probably turning red.

  Mrs. Weston patted my arm. “Don’t worry. We know what a tease David is.”

  David removed his arm. “You wanted the Mike Hammer room, right?”

  “That will be great.” Mr. Weston smiled at me. “I enjoy Mickey Spillane’s hard-boiled P.I. books.”

  David said, “I’m really sorry, folks, but I won’t be able to help get you settled in. We’re going camping and we’ve got to be at the meeting place in fifteen minutes. Zach doesn’t want to be late. I’m glad I didn’t miss you.” He hugged his parents again. “See you tomorrow. Have fun.” Quickly, he leaned in and kissed my forehead. “And don’t eat any of Vicki’s cooking.”

  He pulled back and grinned. “Her breakfasts are safe, but oh, my, watch out for dinner.”

  I rolled my eyes, but his close proximity made my heart speed up again. Why did he have that effect on me? It scared and excited me, at the same time. And it embarrassed me having his parents look on.

  He touched my cheek. “See you, beautiful.”

  The three of us followed David outside while he, Zach, and Lonny carried packs and tents and other camping stuff out to Lonny’s truck. Zach hugged me and climbed in the middle.

  Lonny hugged me. “See you, Vicki.”

  I whispered, “Don’t kill David,” to him.

  He chuckled. “I can’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

  “And don’t be stupid around my son.”

  He nodded. “Now that promise, I can keep.”

  Then they were gone and the three of us—David’s parents and me—turned back to each other. I flushed a little. “David actually prepared dinner, so it is safe to eat.”

  His father grinned. “Looking forward to it.”

  I felt myself relax a little. I motioned toward the Inn. “Right this way,” I said, leading them up to the second floor, next to Sam Spade and across from Inspector Clouseau. The plaque on the door read:

  Mike Hammer ~ New York ~ 1950s

  While the Sam Spade room had a desk and a Murphy bed, the Mike Hammer room looked like a 1940s motel room. On the walls were some of the more tasteful framed posters of WWII pin-up girls, one dedicated to each of three walls. There was also a shadow box with an antique revolver—after I had a gun expert make sure it was a non-working gun. And I even found a framed poster of the music of the jazz classic, “Harlem Nocturne,” that served as the theme song for the TV series.

  I left his parents to settle into their room, and they said they were excited to get to know me better while they were here.

  That was a scary thought.

  I went back down the stairs, and found the New York couple who was staying in the carriage house at the desk, waiting for me. She said, “We want to buy one of your romantic packages with the candles and the chocolate-dipped strawberries.”

  “Sure.” I pulled out a small box of strawberries from a small fridge under the counter, and added it to the package, which they charged on their card, before going back out, giggling.

  I went to the front door and looked through the stained glass windows. No sign of Lonny’s truck, of course. The three of them were off on an adventure.

  I already missed Zach.

  I also missed Lonny and his cheerful personality.

  And I missed David with what was almost an ache.

  That wasn’t good. Or was it?

  ~ ~ ~

  “Want to go with me into Park City to visit with my new financial advisor?” Grandma asked when she dropped by an hour later. “I saw Kent and Cielo’s truck so they can cover for you.”

  My guests were either in town or at the Snow Haven Ski Resort. David’s parents were out shopping for an anniversary memento.

  “Give me a moment.” I found Cielo and asked her to watch the front desk.

  When I came back down, Grandma said, “Let’s take Liz, too.”

  “She’s taking a nap.”

  “We won’t wake her then. A nap is exactly what she needs. We’ll visit my financial advisor, and then stop by the jail to see Herbert and take him a cake.”

  “Did you bake a file into it?” I asked as I climbed into her Cadillac. As she pulled out onto the frozen road, she chatted about the family. Between my brothers and sisters alone, Grandma had seventeen great-grandchildren, enough family to discuss all the way into Park City, and still have only touched on a few relatives.

  “Couldn’t find a financial advisor in Silver City?”

  “I don’t want anyone close to home knowing my business. It’s none of their business.”

  “So why are you switching from your last advisor?”

  “Because he just passed away.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Who’s the new one?”

  “A man highly recommended by my last advisor. He did some work for me last year.” Grandma grinned. “My friends told me he’s easy on the eyes. And they were right. He’s a real doll burger.”

  I laughed, but when I saw him, I had to agree. He was a doll burger. Silver-haired and younger by ten years than Grandma’s seventy-eight, he still looked at Grandma with visible admiration. How did she do it?

  He was very knowledgeable and I felt good about her choosing him. He seemed to know what he was doing and had an air of honesty about him. Maybe all the best con artist
s did.

  About halfway through the meeting, his secretary came in and handed him a note, saying, “From Mr. Eklund.”

  He read it and glanced up with a sigh. He shook his head. “I told him it was going to go under.”

  As the secretary left, Grandma narrowed her eyes. “Jeff Eklund?”

  Startled, the man asked, “How did you know that?”

  She shrugged. “I read it on the note.”

  We both stared at her, impressed.

  “Well?” she asked. “What’s going on with him?”

  “It’s public knowledge now, so I can tell you that he is filing bankruptcy on his business.”

  I exchanged glances with my grandmother.

  Stunned, I realized that Jeff really had needed the money from his mother’s estate to save his failing business. No wonder he was extra mad at Gene.

  “Bankruptcy?” Grandma shook her head. “I almost put some money into his company. Now I’m really glad I followed Gene’s advice.”

  I turned to stare at my grandmother. “Gene was your financial adviser?”

  “Why not? He was my grandson by marriage.” She smiled at me. “A disappointing grandson, but married to Liz, nonetheless.”

  The bankruptcy could move Jeff up the list of suspects to the Number One Most Wanted spot.

  Then it hit me. The murder was solved. Herbert had already confessed and was in jail. But I was addicted to investigating.

  I think it was because Herbert seemed such an unlikely murderer. But, I reminded myself again, he had confessed. And his granddaughter was pregnant by a man nearly twenty years her senior. That could certainly drive a grandfather to murder.

  I pulled my attention back to the conversation of stocks and bonds, again realizing that I liked the zing of an investigation.

  Relieved all over again that Liz was no longer a suspect, I decided it was time to concentrate on my Inn’s mystery weekends. That would be a better use of my energy.

  ~ ~ ~

  As Grandma drove home from Park City, I let my mind wander. I didn’t have to worry about rushing back home because Zach was up on the mountain with two of my favorite guys and Cielo said she’d stay later this afternoon to do some organizing and an inventory of the supplies. That’s one of the many reasons why I liked having her around. She made me look good.

  As the highway turned into Silver City’s Main Street, we went through the green light and passed Hullinger Mortuary, Your Clip’s Come In (where Liz and I got our matching haircuts), the library, Pets and Vets, Gene’s real estate office, the Moose Muffin Café, Knits and Knots, and the Silver City Bank.

  Grandma pulled to a stop at the second of Silver City’s three stop lights. Yes, count them. Three. Silver City is just that big of a small town.

  At the green arrow, Grandma started turning left, before slamming on the brakes and swerving over to the curb in front of the Silver City Police Station. She did it so fast, I hit the seat belt with a woomph! Suddenly, she cried out, “That’s Herbert!”

  Sure enough, I looked over and saw Herbert Norris standing in the doorway of the police station, talking heatedly with Paul.

  Grandma was double-parked and out of the car before I could escape the boa constrictor-grip on my frozen seat belt.

  Finally, I followed her onto the sidewalk.

  As I got closer, I heard Herbert say, “I did it. You can’t let me out.”

  Paul was kind as he told the older man, “Mr. Norris, our lab results show someone else’s fingerprints on your gun.”

  “Mine are on there, too,” the old man insisted.

  “Yes, they are, with good reason because it is your gun. But this other person should not have his fingerprints on your gun.”

  “Then he just picked it up after I shot Gene. That’s all.”

  Paul took a step out the door, shooing Herbert outside the building. “I’ll drive you home now, sir.”

  Grandma took Herbert’s arm. “We can drive you home.”

  Herbert flinched at her touch, not having realized we were there. When he saw her, he clutched her hand. “Naomi? What are you doing here?”

  “We were driving by and I saw you. I had to make sure you were okay.”

  He sure didn’t look okay. His face was red and he moved his free hand jerkily. “Tell your grandson that I did it. I’m guilty. He can’t let a cold-blooded killer back on the streets.”

  I took a step closer to Paul, who stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  “I will do no such thing, Herbert Norris,” Grandma said. “You’re innocent. And now, you’re a free man. I’m so glad.”

  “No. I’m guilty. I have a horrible temper. Gene got my granddaughter pregnant and I exacted my revenge on him by shooting him.”

  “Why ever would you have done that, Herbert?” my grandmother asked soothingly. “You don’t seem the sort to carry out that level of violence.”

  “Well, I am. My daughter, Misty’s mother, got pregnant and moved away as a teenager. We had quite a falling out, so I never even knew about my granddaughter. Not until she showed up recently and wanted to get to know me. When I learned she was visiting with Gene Eklund, and put two and two together, I just blew up. What was a man of that age doing with her? She’s just a baby.”

  I was very glad Liz wasn’t around to hear any of this.

  Grandma sighed. “Come with me. Paul isn’t going to take you back in, so let me drive you home.” She pulled him over to her double-parked car, and he followed meekly.

  “Doesn’t exactly look like a cold-blooded killer, does he?” I turned to Paul, who ran a hand through his hair. “What’s going on, bro? Why is he confessing if he didn’t do the deed?”

  “I think he confessed to protect his granddaughter because he thinks she did it. So he’s going to do the misguided, but honorable thing by going to jail so she won’t have to.”

  “So did his granddaughter kill Gene?” I wasn’t sure about my emotions on that one. She was so young, I didn’t know if I felt she deserved to go to jail. But she was old enough to have an affair with my sister’s husband, so I wanted the judge to throw the book at her.

  Paul shook his head. “No.”

  “That’s good news, right? That she didn’t do it, and neither did her grandfather?”

  His face grim, he said, “No. Most of the Sheriff’s Department think it was the young man who was so smitten with her that he followed her to Utah. Goes by the name of Colton Vans. He showed up at Gene’s house and threatened him. Because he was jealous.”

  “So he ruined his life at this young age.” I shook my head, sorry for the poor young guy, who would, no doubt, go away for a long time.

  Paul cleared his throat. “It’s not just his life that could be ruined.”

  I caught his gaze, worried. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  His lips were tight and his forehead furrowed. “They also think he had an accomplice. Someone who paid Colton to do the deed.”

  He paused. When he didn’t name the accomplice, or maybe couldn’t say the name, I felt my face blanch. The sounds of the cars going by on the road behind me seemed to grow louder, more intrusive, as I fought to keep breathing. “Not Liz.”

  “Don’t say anything to Liz. I’m breaching protocol just by telling you. I only want you to be prepared emotionally so you can be there to help Liz if it goes that far.”

  “How far?” I asked, struggling for another breath.

  “She might be arrested. Soon. And I can’t stop it.” He looked away and ran another hand through his hair. Then he shook his head. “I’ve got to get back inside.”

  Stunned, I stumbled back to Grandma’s Cadillac and climbed into the back seat.

  In front of me, Grandma was making soothing sounds and Herbert sounded sad.

  Liz was going to be arrested?

  My head swam.

  I couldn’t do anything to stop it, either. Not really. I decided to keep asking questions, because I couldn’t bear the feeling of total helplessness th
at would engulf me if I didn’t.

  I blinked back tears and wondered how long before the deputies showed up; and if there was any possible way I could keep from saying anything to Liz about it. I kept trying to wrap my brain around what Paul told me.

  Liz was going to be arrested!

  ~ ~ ~

  Saturday, November 19

  The next morning, I rose way too soon to fix the ridiculously early breakfast expected at a bed-and-breakfast. I was so very much not a morning person, but so many of my guests were. Although, to make it work, I did try to go to bed at a decent time and get a good night’s sleep, but I often had to catch up with catnaps here and there.

  I visited with the family of five in the dining room. They complimented me on the peaches-and-cream coffee cake—one of my favorites—and the individual breakfast quiches. I expected my other guests to come down soon.

  I was filled with worry for my sister, but I kept the secret my brother entrusted me with.

  When Paul found me, back in the kitchen making another pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice I wanted to ask him for more information. But he looked so weary, I decided to let him update me on his own schedule. I worked at being upbeat instead. “Hey, bro, what are you doing here this early? Come up for some of my legendary good cooking?”

  His smile was faint, but I think he appreciated my effort not to dwell on the bad news. “Good thing you can at least cook a great breakfast, even if your dinners are epic failures.”

  I filled the pitcher with juice, rinsed my hands, and wiped things off. “Way to sweet talk the cook.”

  “Good thing you’ve got David to help you.”

  I agreed and pushed one of the individual quiches toward him. He sank onto a stool and reached for a fork while I told him to hang on while I carried the tray with the juice and more quiches to the dining room.

  When I got back, he had his cell phone on the counter. “I need to show you something,”

  I sat on the stool next to him and snagged a quiche of my own. “What do you have?”

  “Pictures.” He pushed his phone toward me. “We can’t let Liz see these.”

  I studied the first one and realized it was a wedding picture. Where did Crystal manage to find such a beautiful wedding gown on such short notice? DeWayne looked fabulous in a tux. And Crystal’s little girl was adorable in a pink princess dress and tiara. I looked over at Paul.