“Well, hell’s bells, girl, Liz really needs some diversion now.” Grandma changed out of her karate outfit and into her colorful street clothes—a rust-colored turtleneck sweater and dark brown slacks with a dramatic necklace and rings.
I said, “We have to be back before five o’clock. Lonny is taking us to dinner and a play.”
“We can do that.” Grandma looked at my sister. “So are you a wealthy woman now?”
Liz nodded.
“That’s good. It makes life easier.”
I just bet it does.
Grandma refused to say where she was taking us. She drove us down Mountain Boulevard until she reached the stoplight where it intersected with Silver City’s Main Street. Turning right, she drove us past Lodgepole Restaurant and Silver City Bank. Then past the Police Department and Mary’s Donuts. Krispy Kreme never had a chance here. Mary cooked gigantic donuts that would melt in your mouth.
We went right past the small theater where the latest Disney animated movie was playing alongside the latest action guy flick. Then past the Moose Muffin Café and Gene’s real estate office. Liz turned away.
Finally, Grandma turned the corner onto Kensington and I knew where we going. Her favorite store, Ye Olde Fudge Shoppe.
Fudge. The ultimate comfort food.
A red-and-white striped awning set the perky tone for the medieval-sounding place. Inside, it looked even less medieval—twelve or so round, white, wrought iron tables. There were probably twelve of them, surrounded by not-quite-comfortable-but-cutesy wrought iron chairs. The place was half-empty—or was it half-full?—of ladies of all ages, and a lone man. He was an older gentleman who was sitting at a corner table.
We went through the line, choosing their specialty—broccoli cheese soup and fudge cake—and pulled out seats at one of the tables.
All except Grandma. She locked eyes with the older gentleman, who stood slowly and walked toward us, his eyes never leaving Grandma. Then when he used one of the corniest lines ever—“Don’t I know you?”—she giggled and told us she’d be with us in a moment.
I rolled my eyes as I watched her take a seat at the man’s table. “Grandma needs to have her wings clipped.”
Liz said, “Aw, let her have some fun. She’s nearly eighty years old. I only pray I have as much spunk when I’m her age.”
When Grandma rejoined us, her newest man in tow, Liz and I had already finished our soup and were starting our fudge cake.
“You girls shouldn’t wolf down your food. It’ll upset your tummies,” she said. Then she held out her hand toward her new friend before introducing him as Herbert Norris.
Herbert Norris? As in the man whose gun was used to murder Gene? At least, according to my own questionable source, David Weston. Now, how best to work that particular tidbit into the conversation? And why would a person use his own gun to murder someone? Unless they were in the heat of the moment.
“Ladies,” he said with a nod of his head, before he grimaced in pain. He put one hand up to his midsection. “Sorry, I got my ribs bruised the other night and they’re still rather painful.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “What happened?”
He looked chagrined. “I’d rather not say,” he said, glancing at Liz.
Liz sighed. “Did my husband do it?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Grandma patted his arm. “It’s okay, Herbert. Just have a seat and tell us what happened.”
With a hesitant nod, he sat in one of the feminine chairs. “I went over to your husband’s house and, regrettably lost my cool. I shoved him. And he shoved me back. I fell down, and, well, I’m not as young as I used to be. I ended up in the ER that evening.”
Grandma huffed. “Fisticuffs are for younger men, Herbert.”
“I know, Naomi. But I had good reason.”
I wasn’t sure how to say this except to blurt it out, so, “I heard that it was your gun that was used to kill Gene.”
He flushed red in embarrassment. “Yes. I took it with me. Foolish, foolish, foolish, I know. I don’t know what I was planning to do with it. Threaten him, I suppose. And he took it from me when I left his home.” He looked at Liz. “I am very sorry, Ms. Eklund. I never intended for it to be used that way.”
Liz and I exchanged glances. She said, “It’s all right, Mr. Norris. I’ve learned there are many things about my husband I wasn’t aware of. There were apparently lots of people upset with him.”
“Like over the Silver Creek Development deal,” Herbert Norris said. “I heard the old man’s son was very angry about the way Gene acquired the land.”
“Really?” Liz said, as she leaned in toward me. “After we leave here, I want to look through some of the files in Gene’s office.”
Herbert visited for a few minutes and then left, promising to call Grandma.
“You gave him your phone number?” Liz pretended to be shocked. “You hussy.”
“Oh, stow it, Elizabeth.”
“Well, what other woman your age is out picking up men?”
Grandma sighed. “That’s exactly the point. I have too many friends who sat down and just never got back up. I’m not going to do that.”
“No, you’re certainly not.” Liz grinned. “Good for you, Grandma. But I just have one question about Mr. Norris.”
Grandma put on her patient face. “Yes?”
“What would Dr. Ray say?”
“He would be glad I’m not sitting at home, atrophying.”
Liz laughed so hard, she snorted water from her nose. “You and atrophy in one sentence? You’re killing me.”
“Killing you?” Grandma got a wicked gleam in her eyes, as she held up her lethal karate hands, and quoted one of my favorite lines from the movie, Fried Green Tomatoes. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have used my hands.”
Chapter Ten
LIZ WASN’T JOKING. AS GRANDMA drove up Kensington and turned onto Main Street, Liz asked her to drop us off at Gene’s Mountain Home Real Estate office so she could get a copy of the Silver Creek Development files. Now that she was legally Gene’s heir, his half of the real estate business was hers, and she was free to do so.
“That will take a while,” Grandma said.
“Norma will help me with it.” Norma was the efficient, older woman who had worked as Gene’s receptionist and secretary since he opened the office five years ago.
“I didn’t see her at the funeral,” Grandma said.
“Wasn’t she there? I was too distracted to notice,” Liz said. “But I’m surprised to hear she didn’t come.”
“I’ll go visit Ilene,” Grandma said. “I need to pick up some yarn for a project, anyway. Just call when you want me to pick you up.”
Ilene Jackson was the owner of the town’s primo yarn, knitting, and craft store, Knits and Knots. She did the calligraphy on my Inn menus and signs in exchange for spending several awesome weekends at the Inn. It worked out well for both of us. She was an empty nester who turned her passion of a hobby into a thriving, successful business. She and Grandma were good friends.
As Liz pulled open the door, I flashed back to the scene from not quite two weeks ago—Gene opening the same door for his knocked-up, minor fling. I shook off the feeling of déjà vu that tingled my senses and creeped me out.
We stepped inside, out of the brisk November air, and turned to the receptionist’s desk.
The woman sitting there was not Norma. I didn’t recognize her and I could tell Liz didn’t, either. This woman was young, blonde and looked like the poster gal for a typical male midlife crisis. Liz and I exchanged narrowed glances.
The blonde looked up and smiled in a friendly manner. “May I help you?”
“Where is Norma?” Liz asked, with an edge to her voice.
“The woman who used to work here? She retired, I think.” She sat up straighter in her chair at Liz’s tone. “I’m Kylee Thompson.”
Norma was in her forties. I doubted retirement at that early age
was in her career plans. She always loved real estate and working here. Why on earth would she have quit? Unless perhaps, some family thing came up. Her mother wasn’t well the last time I was in, about six months ago or so. Maybe she had to quit to take care of her.
Liz adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. “How long have you been working here?”
“For a month.”
“Who hired you?”
“I did.” We looked up to find Lamont standing there. He made welcoming gestures toward Gene’s office. “Come on in, Liz, Vicki.”
Liz said, “I want to thank you for handling things for me, Lamont.”
“I’m glad I can help in some way. He was my best friend.”
Again, I followed Liz, taking a brief glance back at the trophy secretary who had replaced the working secretary. When she returned to her work, I saw that she could at least type. Little reassurance. Poor Norma. I decided to take her to lunch and see what was up.
Lamont took us into Gene’s office. He didn’t sit in Gene’s chair behind the desk—though it was obvious that’s where he was working before—but took the third chair next to ours “Liz, how are you holding up? Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m fine.” She tilted her head. “Why would Norma retire? She loved working here.”
“I’m not sure,” Lamont said, settling back in his seat. “Gene told me she was leaving and asked if I had anyone I could spare from the Salt Lake office to replace her. I found Kylee Thompson and she said she’d be willing to commute; so now she’s helping out until I can get this office staffed again.”
“You said you want to help me?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Please ask Ms. Thompson to pull any files on the Silver Creek Development.”
“Why are you interested in that?” Lamont asked, his tone sounding cautious.
“Because Herbert Norris mentioned to me that some questions were raised about it and I want to see the contract.” Liz thought for a second. “And I’d also like to see the file on the Borman property purchase. I understand there were some hard feelings between the Borman son and my husband.”
“All right.” He called out for Kylee, who popped in a second later. “Would you please pull the Silver Creek Development files?”
“And the Borman property purchase file,” Liz said.
“Sure.” Kylee smiled and disappeared.
Liz said, “I’ll go help her look. Gene and I set up the filing system here.”
Lamont shrugged. “That’s what I pay Kylee for, but if you want to make her feel inadequate, you have every right to do so.”
Liz sat back down and sighed heavily. “All right. While we wait, perhaps you can explain to me what you’re doing here in the Silver City office.”
“I asked my assistant manager to step in and help out at the Salt Lake office, and I came up to handle things here. With Gene and Norma gone, I had to act quickly. We’ve got a big deal going down, which could be in jeopardy without Gene. I’m trying to make sure your investment is handled correctly, Liz.”
Liz had told me that, even though Gene and Lamont had split up the business, they still worked on large real estate deals together.
“Thank you.” She leaned forward. “Lamont, why do you think someone would kill Gene?”
Lamont smacked his hand against the desk, startling us both. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine who would have wanted him dead. I came up here ostensibly to cover our bases, but also to ask questions. I wanted to see if I could figure out who might have killed him. And why. Everybody liked Gene.”
We sat in silence, with me still surprised at his outburst.
He glanced at Liz. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up, but who would have wanted him dead? Do you know something I don’t?”
Liz shook her head. “It seems I barely knew him at all. There’s more I don’t know about Gene than I do know. I was wondering if you might know something I don’t.”
He breathed out deeply. “I know that for the last year, he’s been acting a little strange. And apparently, he was spending a lot of money. I wasn’t sure on what. I saw his brother when he came into the Salt Lake office a few months ago. He told me Gene was stealing money out of his mother’s trust to pump into the business, but I didn’t believe a word of it. I told his brother to leave, that I didn’t want to hear any more, and that Gene was always scrupulously honest.”
Yeah. Until a woman was involved, apparently. And maybe also where the business was involved. Didn’t Lamont know Gene was dishonest? Or was Gene really honest and it just appeared he wasn’t?
Kylee knocked on the door and Lamont waved her in.
“I have three folders on the Silver Creek Development,” she said. “I’ve started copying them for you. But I can’t find the Borman file.”
Lamont looked puzzled. “It’s always been in there. Go look again.”
Kylee left to obey Lamont.
The longer we sat waiting while Lamont tried to fill the awkward silence with comforting platitudes, the stormier Liz’s face grew. Finally, she said, “I don’t care if she feels inadequate, I’m going to look for myself.”
“All right,” Lamont said.
It was even more uncomfortable when he and I had to sit in his office alone. “Your Who-Dun-Him Inn seems to be garnering five-star reviews on the internet,” he said.
“People love a good mystery.” I certainly did.
“I was thinking of taking my wife up there for a cozy weekend. She said she’d love to stay in your carriage house suite.” He leaned forward and confided, “She just loves Tom Selleck.”
He was talking about my wedding suite, styled after Magnum, P.I. “She has good taste.”
After chatting for another ten minutes, I excused myself to locate the restroom. I wanted to find my sister and get out of here.
Kylee wasn’t at her desk, but I could hear her in the back with Liz.
And, upon seeing Liz’s angry face when she came out, I wondered what the heck was going on with Liz.
Storming past me and toward the front door, Liz said, “The file is gone. It just disappeared.”
“Do you think Matt Borman might have taken it?”
“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”
“So we’ll be talking with Matt soon?”
“I think he just moved up the list of possible suspects.” She pulled out her phone to call Grandma.
“Better them than you.”
“You said it, sister.”
~ ~ ~
Lonny was right. A night at the theater—Dolly Parton’s Nine to Five—was exactly the distraction we needed. I was amazed at the incredible sets they devised for this theater in the round, some rising from the stage floor while others descended from the ceiling.
Since Salt Lake City was large enough, and far enough away from Silver City that we wouldn’t encounter anyone we knew, Liz went with us. She was actually smiling, too.
Standing to give an ovation to the fabulous cast, I glanced over at Lonny. He was looking at me and smiling. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh, Lonny, thank you. It was wonderful. It really was.”
The clapping subsided and people started to move toward the aisles.
Zach decided he’d rather sleep over at my mother’s than go to the musical, so Lonny gave my son’s ticket to his younger sister, Belinda, who was seventeen. She was instantly dashing toward the nearest exit. I suspected the two large Pepsis she drank might have had something to do with that.
Grandma, seated on the other side of Lonny, gave him a quick hug. “That was really something. Thanks so much. I’d like to pay you back for the tickets.”
“Absolutely not,” he insisted. “I wanted to do this for all of you.”
Liz smiled at him. “It really was wonderful. I needed that.” She hefted her purse handle onto her shoulder and reached over, around Grandma, to hug him.
Gradually, we began to work our way toward the aisl
e. I impulsively reached out and took Lonny’s arm. He bent his elbow and covered my hand with his.
“It really was nice of you.”
“I can be nice when I have to.”
“Yes, you certainly can.”
As the others walked ahead of us toward the exit, Lonny and I fell behind, jostled by other patrons.
We paused, waiting for the crowd to inch forward. Lonny looked at me and slid my hand down until he held it in his. “I’m asking again, Vicki. Will you go out with me?”
I looked up into his eyes, and my hand suddenly felt very warm in his. I told Robert I would say yes the next time, but I didn’t expect the buzz of adrenaline that suddenly struck my heart. I hadn’t been on a date with another man since I started dating Robert. That was in high school. I hadn’t said “yes” to anyone else in all those years.
But now it really was time. I knew it.
I nodded and managed to get out a weak, “Yes.”
He looked pleased. “Next week?”
How could one little word be so hard to say? “Give me an extra week to get used to the idea?”
“All right.” He smiled. “Two Saturdays from today.”
There. I did it. Pandora’s box was now open.
~ ~ ~
Friday, November 11
The next day, Friday, I had Inn business to attend to. Two Fridays a month, I hosted a murder mystery dinner, along with a little help from a few talented actors—old friends, Stephanie and Lonny, and a relative newcomer to town, Xavier Xee—who were currently breaking their legs in the dining room.
I was in the kitchen with David. He prepared a five-course French meal that could have landed him a chef position at any of the fanciest resorts in the area. Luckily, I had him all to myself.
As a chef, of course. That’s what I meant.
I glanced over at the one-way mirror that revealed how the dinner was progressing. The actors were performing wonderfully, and the guests—two German couples traveling together, a family from New York with three teenage boys, and three young Arizona families with a couple of babies who were having a family reunion on the third floor—seemed to be enjoying themselves.
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