The Ties That Bind (Sarah Woods Mystery Book 11)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  It was Jason and I became distinctly aware of the gun pointed at my knee. His head was shaking with admonishment, as if he were about to scold me like a teacher. “You and your gentleman friend have become a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

  I couldn’t believe I had forgotten to lock the doors. Idiot.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Jason thrust the barrel of the gun into the flesh of my leg.

  I have no idea what a bullet to the knee would feel like, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be pleasant. I decided to choose my words very carefully. “What did you do to Carter?”

  Jason gestured with the gun toward the alley. “He’s taking a little nap behind the dumpster. He might have a headache in the morning, but he’ll be fine.”

  “What do you want?”

  He grinned. “First of all, I’ll be taking your camera.”

  I handed it over without delay.

  He chuckled. “You guys seem like decent people so I don’t want to hurt you but this is your final warning. Stop asking questions about that dead girl.”

  “Nina Chapman?”

  The mention of her name created a spark his eyes, almost like he was turned on. “If I find out you’re asking any more questions, I will find you and then I will put a bullet in your knee. You don’t want to limp for the rest of your life, do you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Good. Then let it go.”

  I decided it would be very smart to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. “Okay. We’ll let it go.”

  Jason wiped his nose and opened the door, gun clenched in one hand, my camera in the other. For a moment I thought maybe I could grab the gun out of his hand, but I decided that could end very badly. He slid out into the night leaving behind the faint scent of alcohol and cigarettes.

  I took a few seconds to calm my nerves with a few deep breaths. My palms were sweating and I wiped them on my jeans. I grabbed my purse and the car keys and went to look for Carter.

  Chapter 13

  As I approached the alley I heard the faint sound of someone grumbling under his breath. When I rounded the building and saw him sitting on the ground with his hand on the back of his head I nearly cried with joy.

  I ran over and knelt down beside him. A gash across his forehead was oozing blood. I found a napkin in my purse and dabbed at it. “Shit. Are you okay?”

  He looked up at me, squinting in pain. “Sarah, did anyone hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine. What did he hit you with?”

  “I have no idea. I was hit from behind and never saw who it was.”

  “It was Jason, warning us to mind our own business.”

  “Unbelievable.” Carter tried getting to his feet but I had to help him. “He hit me with something hard in the back of my head. I must have fallen forward and got the gash on my face.”

  “He ambushed you,” I said. “He probably knew we were parked across the street the whole time. Anyway, he took our camera.”

  When we’d safely returned to the Buick, I insisted on driving back to the Inn. I got behind the wheel and started the engine

  “Well at least now we know Jason is involved.” I pulled out into the street heading back to Ivorydale. “Maybe Jason ordered the hit, who knows? Or perhaps Jason ordered the hit on someone’s behalf.”

  Carter only nodded. His tight expression told me he was still in severe pain.

  “Should I drive you to the hospital?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Do you have some aspirin back in our room?”

  “I keep some in my purse.”

  Carter found the bottle and shook three out into his hand. He popped them in his mouth and swallowed them dry.

  My hands were shaking on the steering wheel as I turned onto the highway. It would be faster than taking the back roads. “You might have a concussion, you know. Maybe a quick visit to the emergency room …”

  “I’ve had worse head wounds, Sarah. This is nothing.”

  “Fine. But if you start to feel nauseous, I’m taking you to the ER whether you like it or not.”

  By the time we got back to the Inn, Carter wasn’t squinting so I had to assume he was feeling better. As we walked through the lobby heading for the stairs, Mary Garcia called out to us.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Carter. How was your evening?”

  Her voice startled me. I turned toward her with a smile that hopefully gave her the impression that we were too tired to stop and chat. “Wonderful, thank you.”

  “A beautiful night, isn’t it? So pleased things have cooled off. The weather tomorrow is supposed to be in the seventies.”

  “Sounds lovely.” I kept on walking with Carter but she didn’t seem to get the hint.

  “I hope you will join us in the dining room tomorrow morning for a complimentary breakfast from eight to nine. It’s a meet and greet that we host twice a week.”

  “Great. We’ll be there,” I said with a wave. “Good night and thank you.”

  “Oh dear,” Mary said, giving Carter a look of concern. “What did you do to your face?”

  “Must have had too much to drink,” Carter said. “I tripped on the sidewalk.”

  “Do you need medical attention?” she asked.

  “No, but thank you.”

  Once we got into the room, I sat Carter down and looked into his eyes. I’ve read somewhere that if you have a concussion, your pupils dilate. Carter’s pupils seemed normal and focused. “Are you feeling dizzy at all?”

  He took my hand and brought it to his lips. He tenderly kissed the top of my hand. “I think it’s sweet that you’re so concerned, but I’m perfectly fine. I’m just exhausted, that’s all. And maybe a little embarrassed.”

  “Embarrassed about what?”

  He diverted his eyes. “I should have been more careful.”

  “Jason ambushed you. It’s not your fault.”

  He was still holding my hand, caressing with his fingers. “I should’ve been more aware. I shouldn’t have left you alone in the car. Tell me exactly what Jason said to you.”

  The memory of the gun pointed at my knee was not one I’d soon forget. “He said he would hurt me if we kept asking questions about Nina Chapman. What are we going to do?”

  Carter stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. “Let me think about it. I’ll have some ideas in the morning. Right now I just need to take a hot shower and go to bed.”

  While Carter was in the shower, I removed my shoes, lay down on the bed and tried to focus on deep breathing. All I could think about was Jason’s gun and the threats of bodily harm. Were they empty threats or did this guy mean business?

  Knowing Carter, he wouldn’t give up the case. Once he commits himself, he doesn’t back down. Sometimes his stubbornness gets him in trouble but usually he finds a way to circumvent disaster. I had to remind myself that being a private detective meant taking risks. In the past year and a half I’ve been threatened, kidnapped and beaten but I have never given up a case because of it. You learn from mistakes and push on. This career was not for the weak or the timid.

  When Carter emerged from the bathroom he moved toward the opposite side of the bed and lay down on his stomach, resting his chin on his forearms.

  I positioned myself so that I was straddling Carter’s lower back. I rubbed my hands together to warm them up, then placed them on his shoulders. He let out a moan of pleasure as I began to slowly work my thumbs into his flesh.

  “Have you ever had a massage before?” I asked.

  “Not professional. Just girlfriends.”

  I was tempted to ask when the last time he had a girlfriend was but I didn’t want to spoil the mood. Instead, I remained quiet as I worked deeper and deeper into the muscles.

  With closed eyes, Carter sighed with pleasure when I began working down his back, paying close attention to the muscles on each side of the spinal cord – the erector spinae muscles. In massage school I had to remember each muscle in the back and over twenty years later, I still know ea
ch one without thinking. Not that it matters anymore. I doubt I’ll have much use for the information, except for times like these when I’m helping a friend in need.

  “Am I going too deep?” I asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “No,” he mumbled. “It’s perfect.”

  Even without massage oil, my hands seemed to glide over his skin with little effort. Time faded away and when I looked at the clock, forty-five minutes had passed. I had actually worked up a sweat and needed a drink of water. “Hey,” I whispered to him. “Mind if I take a quick break?”

  No response. His eyes were still closed so maybe he was in a trance of pleasure. I nudged his arm but he didn’t budge. A faint snoring sound came from deep in his throat.

  I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. I pulled the blankets up from my side of the bed and covered him.

  It was almost eleven o’clock and I was beginning to feel exhausted myself. I brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas and turned out the lights.

  Chapter 14

  When I woke up the next morning, Carter was sitting in the chair next to the bed fully clothed. “Good morning.”

  I sat up in bed and wiped my eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Nine-fifteen. I thought I’d let you sleep in.”

  Carter didn’t have anything in his lap. No cell phone, laptop or newspaper. Not even a cup of coffee. “What are you up to? Meditating or something?”

  “I was watching you sleep.”

  I laughed. “That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

  He came to sit on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on my leg. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”

  “No need to apologize.” I inspected the wound on his temple. The bruising was worse. “How do you feel this morning?”

  “Fair, but I need more aspirin. I didn’t want to go into your purse without permission.”

  “From now on you have my permission to go into my purse whenever you need something, okay?”

  He caressed my leg as an impish smile spread across his face. “I owe you a massage, by the way.”

  His touch sent a wave of warmth up my body. It would be so easy to take his hand and pull him on top of me. We could linger in bed for another hour or two and have a little fun but the timing wasn’t right. I could sense that he felt the same way. I shook those thoughts from my mind and tried to focus on business. “So what are we gonna do about Jason?”

  Removing his hand from my leg, he stood up and headed to the other side of the room. He slid the curtains open to let in the sunlight. “We’ll have to assume that Jason knows more than we think he does, which means he probably knows we’re staying here.”

  “You think we should leave and check into a different place?”

  “No. We’ll just be more careful, that’s all.”

  “So we’re not giving up?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You know me better than that but if you’d rather bow out, I understand.”

  “I’m not bowing out,” I said. “Jason has basically confirmed that someone else is behind Nina’s murder. But is it Perry?”

  “So far he’s the only one with motive. If Perry and Jason know each other, Perry could have warned him about us or vice versa so, from now on, we need to assume that Perry is on to us.”

  “What do you mean? Are you saying we should just level with him? Tell him why we’re here?”

  Carter shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll see how it plays out.”

  I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Shit, we were supposed to go down for our complimentary meet and greet breakfast.”

  “How long will it take you to get ready?”

  “Give me five minutes,” I said, heading to the bathroom. “I’ll just brush my teeth, wash my face and run a brush through my hair.”

  Ten minutes later we were downstairs in the dining room where a buffet table had been prepared. The smell of bacon and eggs, freshly baked muffins and coffee filled the air. A few quests still lingered, but their plates were nearly empty.

  “Good morning.” Mary Garcia greeted us as we entered. “You made it just in time. Please help yourselves to the buffet.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Sorry we’re running late. We overslept.”

  Mary gave us a knowing smile and a wink, as if she understood that a little morning nookie was expected. “We’re pleased you could make it. Our guests are like family and we want to take the opportunity to meet each and every one.” She gestured to a large round table where three people sat with coffee mugs in front of them. Everyone except Perry. “My husband Glenn, my son Graham and his wife Zoe. My other son Perry seems to be running late this morning.”

  “We’ve already met Perry,” Carter said. “And he makes a helluva martini.”

  “Wonderful.” She glanced at her watch in consternation. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

  Her last comment was laced with sarcasm and I got the impression she was not pleased that her son had skipped out on the meet and greet. Her deftly disguised irritation made me wonder if this was something he did often, a small display of rebellion.

  “Everything smells divine,” I said. “I assume your husband is responsible for this amazing spread?”

  Mary smiled with pride. “Yes. I sincerely hope you will enjoy what he’s prepared this morning. After you’ve made a plate for yourself, I invite you to join us at the community table.”

  “Great,” Carter said. “Thank you so much.”

  As I surveyed the buffet table, it was hard to imagine that only one person was responsible for such an extensive menu. Eggs Benedict, scrambled eggs with cheese, crispy bacon, plump sausages, home fries, grits, hash browns, fresh fruit, oatmeal, yogurt, and an endless arrangement of muffins, croissants, cinnamon rolls, bagels and sweet breads. For an Inn that only had five rooms to let, I wondered how much food was ultimately wasted every day?

  My mother’s words repeated in my ear from when I was younger; there are children starving in Africa. Which doesn’t really mean much to a child who is forced to eat liver and onions. I would have gladly sent my dinner to Africa for all those starving kids. “Chef Glenn must have help in the kitchen. One man could not build this wall of food in a day.”

  Carter chuckled as he piled on more hash browns. “It’s a bit over the top, isn’t it? But I have to admit, I’m in heaven.”

  When we sat down at the table, the Garcia family graciously introduced themselves in turn.

  Chef Glenn stood up to shake my hand graciously, his smile like a movie star. His stare and handshake lingered a moment longer than it should have and I guess I was flattered. Weren’t chefs supposed to be fat? Not Glenn, he had the body of a runner. Long and lean.

  Next was their son Graham the accountant. He was cute, but in a nerdy sort of way with his button down shirt and wire rimmed glasses.

  Graham’s wife Zoe we had already met the first night of our arrival as our hostess and waitress. She quickly got to her feet and offered to fetch us a fresh pot of coffee.

  “I’d love some coffee,” I replied. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” She made her way toward the kitchen. “Be right back.”

  Just as Zoe disappeared, Perry shuffled into the dining room looking like a zombie. His head was bent forward and his clothes were wrinkled. His hair was uncombed, a cowlick shot out from the back of his head.

  Mary Garcia gave her son a disdainful glare. “Nice of you to join us, dear.”

  Perry did not respond, instead he went straight to the buffet table and prepared himself a plate.

  Mary fumbled with the cloth napkin in her hands, offering Carter and me a shrug. “My son has had a difficult year. Please forgive him.”

  Chef Glenn cleared his throat, ready to break the awkward silence. He turned his attention to me and Carter. “So where are you folks from?”

  “Bridgeport, New Hampshire,” I said. “It’s about a four hour drive north.”


  “Did someone recommend us to you?” he asked. “Or did you find us over the internet?”

  I looked at Carter to let him answer.

  “I did a search online for the most romantic retreats within New England. This one was at the top of the list.”

  “We make that list every year,” Mary said boastfully. “Did you read the article that Conde-Nast Traveler did on us? Oh, you must read it. They did such a fabulous piece.”

  “I believe I did read it,” Carter said. “Is it true this place has been in the family since 1935?”

  “Quite true.” Mary’s posture straightened and she seemed a few inches taller than her husband sitting down. “My grandmother and grandfather purchased the property for a thousand dollars. The structure was dilapidated, so my grandfather fixed the place up with his own hands. He was a carpenter by trade and my grandmother was a gardener. It took them almost a decade to open the Inn for guests. Then my mom and dad took over along with my two aunts. They kept it going and made a promise to my grandparents that it would always stay in the family. It’s our legacy and we are so proud that our children will carry on the tradition.”

  Graham’s eyes were glazed over as if he’d heard his mother’s speech one too many times. He turned his head, looking toward the kitchen, probably wondering when his wife would be back with the coffee.

  Carter and I continued to eat our breakfast while Mary went on to explain how the Inn had changed over the years. Eventually, Zoe returned from the kitchen with a tray. She filled two mugs of coffee for me and Carter and refilled her husband’s. “Sorry it took me so long. I wanted to brew a fresh pot.”

  “Appreciate that,” Carter said holding his coffee mug up to her before taking a sip. “It’s delicious.”

  When Zoe sat back down next to her husband, she didn’t seem to relax. Almost like she knew she’d have to get up again soon to do something. I got the impression that she didn’t get the chance to sit down very often because a lot was expected of her. No wonder she was so thin. Poor girl barely got a second to herself. I wonder if she knew what she was getting into when she married Graham. Perhaps all of it was tempered by the fact that the trust fund was waiting for them.