The Ties That Bind (Sarah Woods Mystery Book 11)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  Bernice pursed her lips as she thought it over. Finally, she looked up at him. “Can we see how it goes? If, at the end of the five days, you think you’re getting close to discovering something, then maybe we keep going.”

  “Sure. We can play it by ear.” Carter checked his watch. “Our check-in is in half an hour. Sarah and I should get going.”

  As Bernice walked us to the door, her strained features seemed to relax a bit. I got the sense that a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “How will we keep in touch over the next five days?”

  “I’ll call you with updates about once a day,” he said. “I think it is best if we limit our face to face contact until the job is done.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Can’t risk your cover, right?”

  “That’s right; and speaking of cover, Sarah and I shouldn’t be hanging around the police station while we’re in town. So if there’s any way you can get a copy of the police report, it would be a big help.”

  “Absolutely, I’ll work on that.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you both for doing this.”

  Chapter 3

  The Silver Beech Inn appeared to be a renovated farmhouse - butternut yellow with freshly painted white shutters. An expansive wraparound porch invited guests to sit in the Adirondack chairs overlooking the sprawling green lawn. Tall, leafy oak trees provided plenty of shade from the afternoon sun.

  “Fancy shmancy,” I said as we parked in the lot adjacent to the Inn. “How much for a night?”

  “Three hundred,” he said. “But that includes a hot breakfast.”

  “A hot breakfast?” I teased. “Then it’s totally worth it.”

  Carter pointed to a gazebo with ivy growing up the sides. “Romantic.”

  “I can’t wait to see the room.”

  With suitcases in hand, Carter led the way to the front of the house where the office was located. A tall woman in her late forties, with black hair styled in a short bob, greeted us with a warm yet formal smile. “Welcome to Silver Beech Inn, my name is Mary Garcia. How can I assist you?”

  Carter handed her a sheet of paper with a confirmation number. “My wife and I have reserved five nights with you. It’s our anniversary.”

  Her eyes lit up as she scanned the sheet. “Oh, yes. We spoke on the phone a few days ago. You booked the honeymoon suite.”

  Carter wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “We are very excited to see it.”

  Mary extended her arm, gesturing to the main lobby area. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter, please allow me to show you to your room.”

  We followed her through the central hall as Carter carried our luggage. He was certainly doing a grand job of acting the part of doting husband and I rather enjoyed it.

  Mary walked in front of us, stopping every now and then to point out the dining room, the common room—which had a humongous stone fireplace and leather couches— and a small fitness room which contained a few treadmills and free weights. She was also giving us a spiel about the property, pointing to a wall with dozens of framed photographs, all wedding pictures. “We offer complete wedding packages. The gardens outside serve as a perfect spot to tie the knot.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” I cooed. “It really is a lovely property.”

  Mary seemed insistent on showing us one photo in particular. “This one is my son Graham’s wedding a few years ago. It was the most perfect day in July.”

  I glanced at the photo, mostly just to be polite. I pointed to the happy couple who were surrounded by family members. “So this is your son and daughter-in-law? What are their names?

  “Graham and Zoe. You’ll be meeting them soon, I’m sure. My other son Perry works in the bar. You should stop by later and enjoy a glass of wine. We have an extensive collection.”

  We followed Mary up a grand staircase to the second level of the house and stopped at room 7. She inserted a keycard. “Wait till you see the balcony overlooking the gardens,” she said cheerfully. “It’s breathtaking.”

  Upon entering the room, my eyes scanned the luxurious surroundings and I let out an involuntary sigh of pleasure. “Holy cow. This is amazing.”

  Carter seemed rather pleased with himself as he unloaded the luggage at the foot of the four-poster bed, the only bed I could see. “So is there another room attached?” I asked.

  Mary turned toward me with a quizzical expression. “Why? Are you expecting someone else to stay with you?”

  I quickly realized my faux pas. “Oh, no,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. “No, I just remember reading something about the honeymoon suite having two separate bedrooms.”

  Mary indicated a door to the left. “Actually, you are right. There is an attached room here but we keep it locked unless a guest requests to have access to it.”

  When I glanced at Carter, he shrugged casually. “Is that okay, honey?”

  Hearing Carter say the word, “honey” was a new one for me. “Of course it’s okay,” I teased. “Unless you keep me up all night with your snoring.”

  Mary seemed a little amused at our repartee. “Might I suggest earplugs?” she said to me. “My husband snores like a chainsaw, so I completely understand.”

  I had to laugh at Carter’s slightly hurt expression. I had no idea if he snored or not. “Ah well,” I said, taking Carter’s hand and caressing it. “The things we put up with when we’re in love, right sugarplum?”

  He smiled easily but his eyes bore into me, telling me to behave. Perhaps I was overdoing it a bit.

  Mary didn’t seem to notice. “I hope you enjoy your stay. If there’s anything you need, just dial 0 on the phone and someone will be available to help you.”

  “Thank you so much,” Carter said.

  After she left, Carter let out a sigh of relief. “I need a drink. How about you?”

  I gestured to the basket of goodies on the coffee table. “Let’s uncork the champagne and have a toast to our anniversary.”

  He gave me wry smile. “I’m sorry about the bed situation. I figured the attached suite would be available.”

  I wasn’t sure if I believed him, but it didn’t matter. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure there’s extra blankets. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  I pointed to the king sized bed. The thing was big enough for two elephants. “There’s plenty of room. Really.”

  “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Or that I’m … taking advantage somehow.”

  “Not a problem.” I was glad I had decided to pack my nice underwear and silk pajamas just in case something like this happened.

  He reached for the bottle of Champagne and began twisting the wire on the cork until it popped open. He poured us two full flutes and we kicked back to enjoy the moment.

  I noticed there was a brochure included in the basket with a photograph on the back. I held it up for Carter to see. “Look. It’s the Garcia family.”

  The photo showed five smiling faces. Mary Garcia was standing next to her husband, a striking man in his late forties with dark wavy hair and perfect teeth. Pointing to the two young men I said, “They must be Perry and Graham.”

  Carter said, “The blonde girl sitting next to the shorter one must be Zoe, Graham’s wife.”

  “Great. Now that we know what the family looks like, what’s the plan?”

  “Tonight we’ll go down to the bar and have a few cocktails before dinner. Hopefully Perry will be bartending and we’ll chat him up. We won’t mention anything about Nina tonight. We’ll work that in later, after he feels more comfortable with us. We don’t want him to get the slightest bit suspicious that we’re here on business.”

  “If that’s our strategy,” I said. “I have a feeling we’ll be accruing quite the bar tab.”

  He shrugged with the smile. “Whatever it takes.”

  “I doubt he’s going to want to talk about the brutal murder of his fiancé to a pair of strangers.”

  “Maybe not. But I have a fe
w ideas that will help loosen his tongue.”

  I could only imagine what those ideas might involve. “Anyway, I wouldn’t mind going for a walk in the garden to stretch my legs after the long car ride.”

  Carter downed the rest of his Champagne. “Sounds good to me.”

  Chapter 4

  After a thorough self-guided tour around the pristine property, we found ourselves back in the room by five-thirty to get ready for dinner. I took a quick shower and blew dry my long hair, making it smooth and straight. At forty-four years old, I’d noticed that most of my friends had started going lighter in hair color and some just stopped dying their hair altogether. In my mind, growing old gracefully did not mean letting myself go. I might not be able to do much about the crow’s feet or the laugh lines, but at least I can keep my hair looking fresh.

  As I glanced at the black dress on the hanger, I smiled to myself as I remembered the way Carter helped me select it from the others in my closet. It had surprised me that he’d actually offered a suggestion. My ex, Daniel, never seemed to care what I wore, or how I looked. After twenty years of marriage, I suppose we both took each other for granted. I’ve never considered myself a high maintenance person who requires all kinds of lavish attention. The simple act of helping me pick out a dress, well, sometimes it’s the simple sweet things that make the biggest impact.

  When I emerged from the steamy bathroom with the dress on, Carter looked up from his cell phone. His eyes widened and a slow smile spread across his face. “You look like a movie star.”

  “Thanks. You look pretty dashing yourself.”

  Carter wore a pair of dark, slim fitting jeans, a white button down shirt and a navy blue blazer. His thick grey hair was actually combed back from his face, a look that I’d never seen him wear before. In fact, there was a sheen to his hair that made me gasp. I reached out to touch it. “Did you use hair gel?”

  He backed up a step and held his hand up to stop me. “Don’t touch the coif. It took me ten minutes to do it.”

  I knew he was joking. Carter was not the kind of guy to be remotely concerned about his hair or his clothing. “You smell good, too,” I said, leaning in for another whiff. “Is that cologne?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I got the sense that Carter was beginning to feel weird about dressing up. I knew he was out of his element and, yet, somehow I thought maybe he just wanted to prove to me there was a sophisticated side to him.

  I fixed his collar and said, “I know we’re working tonight, but it doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves. It kinda feels like a real date. So let’s pretend that it is.”

  “A real date?” he quipped. “But we’ve been married a year.”

  “Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me.”

  A few minutes later, Carter and I descended the stairs, passed the dining room and strode into the bar hand in hand. There was another couple already sitting at the bar, talking quietly to each other. They acknowledged us with a quick hello, then went back to their secret conversation. The young man behind the bar, presumably Perry, was in his mid-twenties with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Clean shaven and groomed to perfection, he wore a crisp, black button down shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He was busy making a cocktail, but he offered us a polite greeting. “Evening folks. Be right with you.”

  The place was all brass and rich wood; the bar itself looked like it had been custom made with intricately carved molding. A four-tiered shelf behind it displayed a collection of liquors in various fancy bottles. I could hear Frank Sinatra music playing softly in the background.

  Once Carter and I made ourselves comfortable, the bartender made his way to us. “My name is Perry. What can I get for you this evening?” He spoke the words in a flat, generic way as if he’d said those words a million times, which I’m sure he had. His slightly furrowed brow gave the impression that he’d rather be anywhere but here.

  “I’d love a glass of Pinot Noir,” I said. “Whatever you recommend.”

  He turned to Carter. “And for you, sir?”

  Carter peered over the man’s shoulder, gazing at the choice of liquors. “How about a Grey Goose vodka martini straight up with an olive.”

  Perry raised an eyebrow in appreciation. “Nice choice. That happens to be my personal favorite as well.”

  Once Perry went to work on the drinks, I leaned over and whispered into Carter’s ear. “Since when do you drink martinis?”

  “I usually don’t. But the more expensive drinks I order, the more attention we get from the bartender.”

  “Ah, good thought.”

  When Perry returned with our drinks, Carter asked to start a tab. “…and keep the martini’s coming until you see me fall off this stool.”

  Perry smiled—for the first time since we sat down— and I could tell he liked Carter’s sense of humor. “No problem, sir. I can do that.”

  “I’m Carter,” he said, pulling me toward him affectionately. “And this is my wife, Sarah. It’s our one year anniversary.”

  “Congratulations.”

  When Carter caressed my knee, a jolt of electricity shot up my leg. Suddenly I began to realize how fun our little charade could be. We get to fondle each other in public, sleep in the same bed, and basically pretend we are a committed couple for a week. I wondered just how far we might go with the act and how hard it might be to let it go once the job was done.

  Over the next hour, we sipped our cocktails and made small talk with Perry, although he didn’t seem in a very chatty mood. After a second round of drinks, however, Perry seemed to loosen up around us. Once the other couple had left, he asked us where we were from and what we did for work. Carter told him we were from Bridgeport and that we worked as a private investigator team.

  Perry leaned his elbows on the bar and peered at us through inquisitive eyes. “Private investigators? What kind of jobs do you do?”

  Carter shrugged like it wasn’t as exciting as it sounded. “Infidelity cases mostly. Missing persons, background checks, stuff like that. Nothing too crazy.”

  Perry tilted his head, his gaze still fixated on Carter in a sort of hesitant way. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Perry was attracted to him, the way his eyes scanned his face but maybe Carter just looked familiar to him. Carter must have picked up on it, too. “Say, Perry. It’s probably against the rules, but can I buy you a drink? I won’t tell. No one is around anyway.”

  Perry smiled and actually blushed. “It’s a nice offer, sir, but I probably shouldn’t.”

  Carter shrugged like it didn’t matter either way. “I understand. But if you change your mind …”

  Perry glanced toward the bar entrance with a tense expression, as if he expected someone to walk into the room. He checked his watch intently for a few seconds and then finally said, “What the heck, I could use a drink right about now. I haven’t had a break since lunchtime.” He filled a martini glass with ice to get it chilled then poured himself a generous amount of vodka. He held it up to us for a toast. “Thanks for the drink. And here’s to your anniversary.”

  We replied in kind by lifting our own glasses to his. “I never trust a bartender who doesn’t drink,” Carter said. “You’re alright in my book.”

  After a few sips, Perry’s shoulder’s seemed to relax. He leaned against the bar in a casual manner as he continued to sip. I prayed nobody else would walk in and take his attention away from us.

  “So,” Perry began, his words coming out a little slower this time. “Do you guys ever investigate murders?”

  Carter tried to disguise his smile. “Not many, why do you ask?”

  He leaned in toward us and rested his elbows on the bar. “Did you happen to hear about the murder of a girl named Nina Chapman about four months ago?”

  Carter feigned surprise. “No. The name doesn’t sound familiar. What happened to her?”

  Something flashed in Perry’s eyes and I couldn’t discern what it was. Sadness, guilt, or maybe fear? Either way
, I sensed an emotional charge coming from him.

  “She was my fiancé,” he finally said with a low voice, as if that fact were more important than how she died.

  I moaned in dismay. “Oh God,” I said. “How awful. I am so sorry.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Thanks. I think I’m still in shock over it. I feel like a walking zombie most days.”

  Carter placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You must be going through hell, son.” When he removed his hand, he waited a beat before asking, “Did they get the person who did it?”

  “Yeah,” Perry said, running a hand through his hair. “Two kids.”

  “How old are they?”

  “The one still in prison is eighteen. The other one was sixteen but he died in prison. He got sick or something.”

  Carter shook his head with a remorseful sigh. “What’s this world coming to?”

  Perry made a tight expression and pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned away and pretended to clean a glass that already seemed perfectly clean. I wondered if his emotional episode was genuine or just a clever display to throw us off. Although I had to remember that he was the one who had brought up the death of his fiancé. Would a guilty person do something like that?

  When he turned back to face us, his eyes were red. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. I didn’t mean to put a damper on your celebration.”

  Carter waved the comment away. “Nonsense. If you want to make another round of drinks, we’re all ears.”

  Perry went to work preparing another martini after pouring another glass of Pinot Noir. “The customers are the ones supposed to tell the bartender their troubles, not the other way around. I usually try and keep my mouth shut about it. But when you guys said what you did for a living …” He fell silent and kept focused on the task at hand.

  “You need to talk about it,” Carter said in a gentle, patient voice as he sipped on the fresh cocktail. “So go ahead and talk.”

  Perry shook his head. “Not professional. If my folks ever found out I was bending your ear about this, they’d bust a gasket. My parents own the Inn, in case you didn’t know.”