Murdering the Roses (A Heavenly Highland Inn Cozy Mystery)

by Bell, Cindy

  Luckily there weren't too many guests at the inn as it was the middle of the week, but they would be packed full by the time the weekend arrived. Timothy, the man who Sarah had checked in the day before, walked right through the lobby area and out onto the porch. He paused beside the two women and narrowed his eyes as he looked over at the police. Vicky braced herself for the questions that he might ask, but he only offered a mild shrug. Then without a word he continued down the steps and to his car.

  Deputy Sheriff Mitchell Slate came jogging up to the porch, his eyes wide with concern as he looked from Vicky to Sarah and then back again.

  "I'm so sorry for your trouble," he said politely as he removed his hat in a courteous if not archaic display of manners. "Are you two ladies all right?"

  "Yes, just shaken up," Sarah replied nervously, her voice more shrill than normal. She still had an arm wrapped around Vicky's shoulders, though Vicky had begun to regain her composure.

  "There are a few questions I need to ask you,” he explained apologetically. “Who found the body?" Mitchell asked, trying to keep his voice professional yet still compassionate. He was a very handsome man who had been transferred from the deep south. He still called women ma'am and had a way of gazing at people with such deep respect that it was just a shade boyish. Vicky found it to be very endearing, especially when paired with the fierce blue of his eyes. He had strong features with a square jawline and a prominent, sloped nose. His sandy brown hair was mussed by his hat, and splayed across his forehead in many different directions.

  "I did," Vicky said hesitantly, she hated to think of it.

  "Oh," Mitchell pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. He began to scribble notes down in it. "And how did you happen to find it?" he asked without looking up at her.

  "I was looking for Bob, he's our gardener," Vicky explained haltingly, her heart pounding. Mitchell glanced up at her furtively and then back at the notepad he was holding.

  "Were the two of you supposed to meet?" he asked, his voice even and solely professional now.

  "No," Vicky shook her head slightly. "I had something I needed to tell him,” she said hesitantly. She really didn't want to admit that she was about to fire the poor man.

  "Were you lovers?" Mitchell asked abruptly, causing Vicky to gasp slightly in disgust.

  "No, of course not," she shook her head dismissively. "I was looking for him to fire him."

  "I'm sorry," Mitchell said quickly. "It's just one of the first questions we always ask in the case of a homicide," he reached up and perched his hat back on top of his head so he could continue to take notes. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary this morning?" he asked, still avoiding looking directly at her.

  "No," Vicky said firmly, she had been through it many times in her mind. "I just walked into the garden, and I…" her voice broke off slightly. She had never experienced anything so disturbing before.

  "It's okay," Mitchell said gently and reached out to softly caress her shoulder.

  "Deputy Slate," the sheriff called from behind him in a sharp no nonsense tone. Sheriff McDonnell was a surly looking man. He had a round belly that caused his tan uniform shirt to be strained and a black mustache that hung limply over his mouth. He wore a broad hat similar to a cowboy and his piercing, brown gaze always seemed to be accusing someone of something.

  Mitchell drew his hand back quickly and turned to face the sheriff with a slightly guilty expression.

  "Can you tear yourself away from your lady friend long enough to give me an update on the corpse in the garden?" he asked in a short tone. He swept a judging glare over the two sisters.

  "Oh, yes of course," Mitchell mumbled and looked over the notes he had made. "Well, he was discovered this morning by Ms. Braydon, and so far that is all we really know. It does look like he was bludgeoned with something, maybe a shovel, or a baseball bat."

  “How awful,” Sarah winced at the details and tugged lightly at Vicky's arm. "Maybe we should go inside, and get out of the officers way so that they can clear out the body."

  "Wait just a minute," the sheriff called out as he stomped up the steps of the front porch.

  "First of all, no one is moving that body until all of the forensic evidence is collected," he said sternly.

  "But Sheriff I have a wedding set to take place in that garden this weekend," Vicky protested, her eyes wide with surprise. She had assumed they would be done with their investigation by the end of the day.

  "I'm sorry if this poor fellow's misfortune has caused you any trouble," the sheriff said rather rudely and narrowed his eyes. "Now from what I understand from questioning the other employees, there weren't too many people that actually liked this fellow Bob. Did the two of you have anything you were arguing about?"

  Vicky's eyes widened at the idea that the sheriff was actually questioning her, as if she might somehow be involved.

  "Of course not. I hired him as a favor, and he simply wasn't good at his job, so I was going to fire him," she frowned as she realized that could very well paint her as a suspect. Then Vicky suddenly remembered the argument that Bob had had with the chef. Was it possible that it had continued after she left? Did they fight so badly that it had ended in murder? She couldn't imagine Henry ever doing something like that. But maybe Bob had confronted his brother, or maybe his brother had finally hunted him down.

  "Did you notice anyone suspicious around this morning, or maybe yesterday?" the sheriff asked, taking over the questioning for Deputy Slate who asked a few questions of Sarah about the property itself.

  "No," Vicky said carefully, and then she thought better of it. She didn't want to be accused of withholding information. "Well, he did mention he had a falling out with his brother over some money he owed him. Apparently his brother had been trying to find him.”

  "I see," the sheriff nodded to Mitchell for him to make a note of her words, which Mitchell did. “We'll make sure that we look into that. Now would you mind showing us where the shovels and other tools might be stored. Maybe our murderer used a shovel and decided to put it back where he got it from," Sheriff McDonnell said hopefully. He wanted the case to be solved before lunch.

  "The garden shed is just around back," Vicky began to explain to him. The sheriff smiled at her in a way that was not at all friendly.

  "Why don't you show us?" he suggested with thinning patience. The last thing Vicky wanted to do was walk back through that garden. But she knew that the sheriff already had something against her, so she decided to cooperate as much as possible.

  “I'll go with you,” Sarah suggested quickly when she saw the discomfort in her sister's expression.

  "No it's all right, you take care of the guests," Vicky said to Sarah as she walked down the front steps. Mitchell followed closely after her.

  “Don't worry Sarah, I'll stay with her,” he assured Sarah.

  "Yes, and do get me a list of your guests please Sarah," the sheriff requested sternly. "I want to know everyone who checked in or out in the past week, understand?"

  Sarah nodded and stepped back into the inn. Vicky walked carefully through the garden with Mitchell remaining closely at her side. She kept an eye out for anything else she might trip over.

  "This is the shed," she said as she stopped beside a large wooden structure. "Oh," she murmured as she looked closely at the lock. "Well, that's strange," she started to reach for the lock, but Mitchell grabbed her hand before she could. His touch inspired a quick increase in her heartbeat that startled her. He had noticed that the lock was broken as well.

  "Fingerprints," he explained as he quickly released her hand and ducked his head to hide a blush. He nodded to one of the gloved officers who carefully opened the door to the shed. Inside it looked as if a tornado had struck. Everything that was normally neatly stored on the shelves that lined the walls had been tossed down onto the floor. Pots and bags of soil were overturned and even ripped open. Buckets had been emptied out all over the floor. It was such a mess that Vicky wouldn'
t even know where to begin to clean it up.

  "Seems like someone was looking for something," Mitchell said quietly as his gaze stroked over the horrible mess.

  “The question is, did he find what he was looking for?” the sheriff wondered out loud as he peeked in the garden shed from behind them. “I think this is going to be one long investigation,” he sighed and pulled out his phone. “Better let the wife know.”

  Mitchell met Vicky's eyes as she stood outside the garden shed. He frowned as he studied her.

  “I'm glad you didn't get hurt,” he said quietly. “Who knows what could have happened if you walked into the garden in the middle of the attack.”

  Vicky smiled faintly at his concern. She still had a hard time reading what his intentions were, but it was nice to know that he cared.

  “Actually, it looks like this man was killed sometime in the late evening last night,” one of the assistants to the Medical Examiner said as he walked up to the sheriff to give him the information.

  “Do you have a time of death?” the sheriff asked as he hung up his phone.

  “Approximately midnight,” the man said with a slight nod. “Could be an hour either side.”

  “Thanks,” the sheriff said and looked directly at Vicky. “I want to speak to all of your guests, now,” he stated flatly. “Someone may have seen or heard something.”

  “Oh Sheriff, do you think that's really necessary?” Vicky pleaded.

  “Oh no, it's fine,” the sheriff shrugged mildly, his tone biting. “We'll just let the murderer walk free so that your high end customers don't get ruffled,” he glowered at her.

  “Excuse me?” Vicky began to say, offended by his tone, but Mitchell stepped boldly between them.

  “I'll take care of the questioning Sheriff,” he said respectfully. “I'm sure we can find a non-intrusive way to handle this,” he assured Vicky as he glanced over his shoulder at her. Vicky was a little startled by how close he was standing to her, but she nodded at his words. She knew that he would be a lot more polite when talking to the guests.

  “Fine,” she agreed as she took one last look at the messy garden shed.

  “But first we need to search Bob's room, and I want to speak to any staff that might have had an issue with him,” the sheriff insisted.

  Vicky bit into her bottom lip as she realized that was going to include Henry. She knew she had no choice but to tell the truth, so she pulled Mitchell gently aside.

  “Listen, Bob didn't work here for very long, but he did have a few run ins with the chef, Henry. Just little things, like him being unhappy about the vegetables rotting in the garden because Bob didn't harvest them, and Bob's brother apparently confronted Henry when he was looking for Bob. But Henry is a good man, and I know he wouldn't do this,” she met his gaze, hoping that he would believe her.

  Mitchell studied her and then he wrote down the details of her statement. He tucked his notebook into his back pocket and smiled warmly at her.

  “Don't worry Vicky, all of this will be over soon. I'll make sure I get the whole story from Henry. It looks like Bob's brother will be the prime suspect. Maybe that's what he was looking for in the garden shed, the money that his brother owed him. Did Bob ever mention how much he owed?”

  “No,” Vicky sighed quietly as she studied the scene unfolding before her. She felt regretful for not prying more into Bob's business. Maybe if she had, she would have found a way to prevent all of this.

  ***

  While Mitchell was questioning the guests inside the inn, and the sheriff was searching Bob's room in the employees’ quarters, Aunt Ida stepped outside to join Vicky.

  "Look at all these handsome police officers,” Aunt Ida whispered in Vicky's ear. “I love a man in uniform!”

  Vicky frowned as she leaned closer to Aunt Ida and whispered back. "Bob was definitely murdered in the garden!"

  "Are you serious?" Aunt Ida gasped with horror and just a little bit of delight. "Well, isn't that just grand!" she declared, her eyes shimmering.

  "What?" Vicky asked with shock in her voice as she turned to look at her aunt. She wanted to be sure that she had heard her correctly. Grand was not how she would describe the situation.

  "Well, I mean it's not grand for Bob of course," Ida frowned as if she was offering the correct amount of grief for the man she barely knew. "He did rescue me from a spider," she said with a nod of respect. "But just think, our very own murder mystery."

  "Aunt Ida this is not one of your books," Vicky pointed out with a shake of her head. Aunt Ida had an affection for all things mysterious. She was always reading murder mysteries, though half the time she fell asleep after a few pages. She always said she didn't care, because she had the crime solved in the first few paragraphs.

  "No it's better," Aunt Ida insisted with a grim smile as she looked over the gathering of police officers. "Besides if we don't solve the murder, who will? You know none of these boys have any idea what to do about a homicide."

  Vicky considered that as she studied the mostly young men who were idly chatting with one another. Aunt Ida had a point. She couldn't remember the last time there was an actual homicide in their small town. This made it even more unlikely that she would be able to have the wedding on the weekend. She was going to have a very disappointed bride on her hands.

  "You may be right," Vicky said quietly. "Maybe if we just help out a little by looking into things, we can get this case solved in time for the Merriam wedding."

  "Oh yes, I'm sure we can," Aunt Ida nodded, pleased that Vicky was agreeing to her plan. "With you and I on the case how could we ever go wrong?"

  Vicky laughed and shook her head as she slid her arm through her aunt's. "I don't think we could."

  "So where do we start?" Aunt Ida wondered. “Should we question the witnesses, search for evidence, or consult a psychic?”

  "Well, the garden shed was ransacked, as if someone was looking for something," Vicky said thoughtfully. "I'm willing to bet that they didn't find what they were looking for."

  "Hmm, maybe we should have a second look?" Aunt Ida suggested with a gleam in her eyes. "Maybe there's something they missed?"

  “It's such a mess I don't think we could find anything,” Vicky shook her head slightly. “Actually with everyone being questioned by the police, I think it might be a good idea if I did a check of all the rooms and make sure that nothing else has been destroyed or is missing.”

  “You do that,” Aunt Ida agreed with a smile as she began to walk towards the garden shed. “I'll just take a second look!”

  Vicky shook her head in amazement at her aunt. Most people would want to run away from a crime scene, but she couldn't wait to dive in. When Vicky stepped into the inn she saw Sarah looking very frazzled as she tried to explain to each guest what was happening and that they were not in any danger. From the look in her eyes Vicky could surmise that many were asking for refunds or discounts on their stay because of the disruption.

  Vicky knew it was terrible for business to have the police presence but she was secretly glad that they were there. It still lurked in the back of her mind that there was a slim possibility that the murderer really could be one of the guests at the inn. She didn't believe it could be one of the employees, but a lot of people did come and go at the inn. Even if it wasn't a guest, there were plenty of places for a murderer to hide out in such a vast building. At least she hoped that with all the police presence the culprit would have been scared off. As Vicky walked the halls on the second and third floors she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She checked all the empty rooms to be sure that no one was hiding out inside.

  Then she decided to head for the staff quarters, where she knew the sheriff should be done searching Bob's room. A few other staff members also shared the building, including the chef Henry, and three of the maids who chose to take advantage of the discounted rent and be very close to work. As she expected, the sheriff was finished with the search in Bob's room, but as Vicky walked down t
he hallway towards the maid's quarters, she was surprised to find that Henry's door was ajar. It was not just open, but it looked as if it had been forced open.

  How had the police overlooked this? Vicky had not seen Henry all morning, so when she pushed gently on the door she wasn't sure what she would find. She hoped that it wouldn't be anything as devastating as what she had found in the garden. What she found was that Henry's room had been ransacked. Everything was torn from the walls and there was broken glass on the floor. Vicky knew she should call for one of the officers who would still be nearby, but she was drawn into the scene, her heart pounding. She just kept hoping that Henry was safe.

  Vicky stepped further in, more carefully, as she knew that the sheriff would want to be notified about a new crime scene and that she could be treading on evidence. As she did, she felt a little uneasy. Something seemed off, beyond the mess, and she just couldn't place what it was. She drew a shaky breath and noticed that the mattress on the bed was pushed aside. Someone had even run a knife through the mattress. The sight of the torn mattress made her even more nervous. Whoever had done this was certainly armed.

  Again Vicky felt as if she should be noticing something. Then it struck her, the room was silent. But she could hear something. It sounded distinctly like breathing. Then she heard the squeak of the closet door swinging open. Before she could spin all the way around to face whoever was leaping out of the closet, something hard and heavy struck her on the back of the head. She slumped forward into the broken glass and other rubble on the floor, the pain searing through her before she completely blacked out. One image burned into her mind as she slipped into darkness.

  Chapter Three

  “Have you seen Vicky?” Aunt Ida asked as she walked through the kitchen. Henry shook his head, his cheeks flush with annoyance. He was angrily chopping vegetables with a large knife.

  “No, but I certainly talked to enough police officers this morning. As if I would ever murder someone,” he shook his head with disgust. Aunt Ida fixed him with a steady gaze.