by Morgana Best
Cressida walked over and stuck her face toward the screen. “Hmm, something like that would definitely make sense,” she said. The three of us peered at the screen. Moments later, the door swung open and Greg strolled in, looking distraught.
Mr. Buttons slammed the laptop shut.
“Hello, everyone,” Greg said, his face pinched and white. His hands went to his face.
“We were just seeing what the weather was going to look like for the week,” Cressida said. She wasn’t a good liar, but Greg did not appear to notice.
“Thanks,” he said as he sat down. “The police held me for hours and hours, asking me the very same things over and over again. It’s all been so overwhelming and intense. Days after I lose my wife, and I’m dealing with all of this craziness. I’m about to lose my mind.”
“What did they ask you?” Mr. Buttons said.
“They just kept grilling me about times. What time did I shower that day? What time did I eat? When was the last time I saw Lisa that morning? Just a bunch of those types of things. Oh, and the one thing they really harped on about was a wrench.”
“A wrench?” Mr. Buttons asked.
“Apparently a man at that hardware store in town told some people that I was in his store a few days before my wife passed away. The police accused me of buying the wrench used to disable the railing, which ultimately killed Lisa.” He looked into his empty hands and sniffled. “I didn’t hurt my wife. I loved her and I miss her very much.”
I wasn’t sure what to believe, and by the look Cressida was giving me, I felt we were on the same page. I glanced over at Mr. Buttons and noticed he looked more sympathetic. He probably still thought Dorothy was the murderer. I shook my head at the idea.
Greg pulled his head from his palms and looked up. “It was just really exhausting, but at least it’s all cleared up.”
“What?” the three of us asked at once.
Greg fixed me with a look that I was sure was smug. “The police looked at the CCTV footage from the hardware store. They traced the buyer of a wrench back to a man named Alex Jefferson. He’s a tad older, but to an elderly man like the hardware store owner, he and I looked like twins.”
“A good thing they caught their mistake before it was too late or something. You poor man,” Mr. Buttons said, with genuine feeling.
Greg nodded vehemently. “Yes, that’s the only thing that made them let me go home. Once they found out it wasn’t me, they had nothing to hold me on. They still went over a few questions and oddities in the case, but from how they were treating me near the end and such, I feel confident they’ll be looking for the actual killer now, instead of wasting their time barking up the wrong trees.” Greg slammed a clenched fist onto the table in front of him. “I just want to finish this expansion, have the case closed and solved, and get on with my life. Me being here right now is not good for any of us.”
Greg shot me a look when he said that, and for some reason, I felt it was a threat.
“I’m going to go rest for a bit and then get back to work,” Greg said. He nodded to us and then left.
Cressida shook her head. “Can you believe that?”
“What?” Mr. Buttons said.
“Was Nathan wrong? It wasn’t even Greg? He seemed so sure,” I said. “Anyway, just as well you handed the footage straight over to the police, Mr. Buttons.”
We all fell silent as Greg poked his head back around the door.
“Oh, one more thing,” Greg said. “Have any of you seen a pair of black, high heel pumps? The designer is Burch. They were Lisa’s favorite formal shoes, but I can’t find them anywhere, and I know she brought them for our honeymoon.”
“Oh, that’s the first I’ve heard of any missing items. I’ll ask the staff if they’ve found any shoes,” Cressida said.
Greg thanked her and disappeared.
“It’s kind of weird that he’d even be looking for his wife’s shoes, isn’t it?” Mr. Buttons asked.
“Not if he just wants to make sure he doesn’t lose anything he has left of her,” I said.
Cressida left the room in search of the missing shoes, while Mr. Buttons and I went back to googling motives for murder.
“Would you believe it?”
I jumped and looked back at Cressida. I hadn’t heard her return to the room. “Lisa’s shoes were sitting right in the Lost and Found bin. Someone turned them in yesterday, but the log wasn’t filled out properly. It just says, kitchen staff,” Cressida said.
“How would kitchen staff find shoes missing from a guest’s room?” I asked.
Cressida shrugged.
“I was right!” Mr. Buttons exclaimed. “It was Dorothy! She’s the only kitchen staff we have.”
“What are you talking about? You think Dorothy stole Lisa’s shoes?” I asked him.
Mr. Buttons was unable to hide his enthusiasm. “It fits,” he said gleefully. “Maybe that was why the poor woman went out on the balcony. She probably wanted to ask Greg, whom she knew was outside in the yard smoking, if he knew where they were.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Well, that makes sense, but still, I really can’t believe it was Dorothy who took the shoes, let alone hurt Lisa.”
Cressida stood up. “I’ll speak with her about it.”
“What? You’re just going to walk up to Dorothy and ask her about it?” I asked.
“Yes, why not? If she did, the police will want to be made aware of it.” Cressida hurried off, and I hurried after her.
We were met at the kitchen door by the grumpy woman. “What is it? I’m behind as it is!”
Cressida stepped forward. “Dorothy, I’m here about an important matter. A pair of shoes went missing from a guest, and the entry says they were turned into Lost and Found by kitchen staff. You’re the only kitchen staff here. We need to know who found the shoes.”
“What does it matter?” Dorothy snapped.
“The shoes belong to the guest who died. The police are investigating it as a homicide, so they will want to know how someone came to have the woman’s possessions, and why,” Cressida said sternly.
Dorothy frowned, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I know it looks bad, but that’s why I turned them in. That argument I had with her the night before, I know people are thinking I did something to harm her because I was angry, but I didn’t.”
“Dorothy, you have a history of losing your temper with guests,” Cressida said.
Dorothy narrowed her eyes, but her tone was even. “I did lose my temper, but not enough to kill someone. I stole the shoes because I was going to line them with some small slices of fish, so they’d stink the next time she wore them. Then, she ended up getting murdered. I cleaned the shoes and then threw them in the Lost and Found, hoping they’d be returned and nobody would ask questions.”
Chapter 15.
I had a break between grooming clients, so I wandered up to the boarding house to see if there had been any developments.
Cressida was sitting on the front steps, her head in her hands. “The Little Tatterford and Shire Council is sending an inspector here today.” She sighed and rolled her eyes at the thought.
“Why would they?” I said. “The police are treating Lisa’s death as suspicious.”
Cressida sighed and looked away. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s a good thing. It’s like someone at that place has a grudge against me.”
“Unless that awful Cynthia Devonshire from the B&B in town has a friend who works for the council, I honestly don’t think she’d have that kind of influence.”
Cressida frowned. It was clear that she was overwhelmed with anxiety. “You never know, Cynthia Devonshire could be more powerful than we realize. Have you spoken to Blake recently?”
“No,” I said, my heart sinking. “Not since the other day. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering,” Cressida replied. “I was wondering if you thought I should notify the police about the shoes that went missing.”
That
caught me off guard completely. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Cressida’s face contorted, and the makeup around her eyes cracked. “I don’t really think it pertains to the case at all.”
“You and I think that, but what if we’re wrong?”
Cressida wrung her hands. “But then Dorothy will become a suspect.” She shrugged. “At least that would make Mr. Buttons happy.”
I thought for a while. “I suppose we need to do what’s right,” I said.
Cressida’s face softened. “Yes, that makes sense,” she said.
Mr. Buttons hurried over to us. “What are you two gossiping about?”
“Sibyl and I were talking about whether or not to inform the police about Dorothy stealing the shoes, and we came to the conclusion that we should tell them,” Cressida said.
Mr. Buttons nodded. “Yes, the police need to know that she hid her theft from them,” he said. “It shows that she’s deceitful.”
I was waiting for Cressida to disagree when a white truck pulled up suddenly, spraying gravel everywhere. Cressida stopped mid-sentence and looked panicked when Franklin Greer climbed out of the car.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Upthorpe,” he said. “We’ve met before. As you know, my name is Franklin Greer, and I’m from the Little Tatterford and Shire Council. I’m here to inspect some of the key features of this establishment. I’m going to let you in on one little secret.” He smiled a thin smile.
The man stood wordlessly for some length of time, so Cressida finally broke the silence. “What’s the secret?”
Franklin Greer smiled in an evil manner. He reminded me of a villain from a comic book. He turned his head and spoke in a low voice. “We have some inside information that this boarding house is not operating under the correct procedural and structural guidelines and standards. Failure to comply with any of our requests, whether they be for information, documents, customer and guest information, or anything of the sort that we deem necessary, will lead to the temporary closure of this establishment for an indefinite period of time, or until the issue is resolved in a satisfactory manner set forth by the Little Tatterford and Shire Council.”
“Yes,” Cressida finally said. Her voice was filled with fear and concern. “Give me a few moments to make sure that the guests vacate their rooms for your inspection.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Franklin Greer said, his smirk spreading. “I’m stopping all operations of this establishment at this time. All guests will need to vacate their rooms until further notice. We will not evict you, the owner, or your family, but that is all we’ll allow here until the business license is restored. That will happen upon one of two things, when a complete and lengthy inspection reveals no proof or signs of structural or procedural violations, or when violations are discovered, but fines and repairs are made by the offender as ordered by the Little Tatterford and Shire Council.” He smiled in a smug, threatening way. “I believe that means you will be one of the guests vacating your room,” he said, looking at me.
I resisted the urge to stomp on his foot. “Actually, I live in the cottage out back. I don’t board here, so I get to stay, too,” I said.
Franklin Greer ignored me. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to Mr. Buttons.
Mr. Buttons glared at him. “Yes?”
“Are you a guest here?”
Mr. Buttons looked like a deer in headlights, frozen and unsure of what to do. I wondered if time was at a stand-still in his mind, while little gears spun around, trying to come up with the right solution to his quandary.
Cressida walked to position herself between Franklin Greer and Mr. Buttons. “What are you talking about?” she said. “Mr. Buttons is my boyfriend. He lives with me,” she said, defiantly.
I was surprised that Franklin Greer fell for such a blatant lie, but he did. His face fell with disappointment, but then soon lighted up when one of the young environmentalists hurried out the front door.
“Who is that?” he asked Cressida.
“He’s Peter Steele, one of our guests,” Cressida said, honestly. “There are others.”
“All right, thank you for your cooperation.” He smiled in a sadistic way as he approached the guest. The young man then went back into the boarding house.
Franklin Greer walked back to us. “I will inform all the guests that they will no longer be able to reside at this establishment. They are going to be packing up and vacating within a few hours.”
“You can’t be serious!” Cressida’s voice was a wail. “Where will they go with no notice?”
“To the new Bed and Breakfast that’s just opened up in town. You know of it, don’t you?”
“Yes, I’m well aware,” Cressida growled. “You’re kicking out my guests and sending them to my biggest competitor?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s our policy.” He did not sound at all sorry.
Cressida’s sadness turned to anger. “You can’t close the boarding house before the investigation!” she yelled.
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Franklin Greer said, as he turned away.
Cressida walked after him. “The police are investigating it as a homicide,” she said to his back.
Franklin Greer stopped walking, and turned back to Cressida. “I understand that, but until we investigate the integrity of the building and see that proper protocols are being followed, it’s a risk we can’t take. Please evacuate your guests and allow us to conduct our inspection.” He smiled, looking like a spoiled kid who just stolen a second dessert when no one was looking. “Oh, I see there’s at least one more guest down here.”
Greg had just appeared. “Hey guys, what’s up?” he said, as he walked over to us.
Franklin Greer squinted at him. “Good afternoon, my name is Franklin Greer. I’m from the Little Tatterford and Shire Council. We’re here investigating some possible issues with the building. If you’re a guest, we need to ask that you leave the premises as soon as possible, for safety reasons. That is, unless you are a member of Ms. Upthorpe’s family. Are you?”
“No,” Greg said. He was clearly unsure of how to respond to the situation.
“Mr. Greer, Greg is a close friend of mine,” Cressida said.
I watched Greg’s eyes flicker as he caught on to what was happening. “Yes, I’m just in town briefly and needed a place to stay. Cressida and I go way back and she allowed me to stay in a room as a family guest. I haven’t paid her a cent.”
“That means he’s not a customer or guest under business policy,” Cressida elaborated.
Franklin Greer tilted his head upward. “All right, I think we’re going to schedule a thorough inspection very soon. I’ll call you later with the exact time and date.”
“I thought you were going to do that right now?”
“No, we need to look over a few things and give those guests time to vacate the rooms. We will be in touch.”
Chapter 16.
I clipped the leash onto Sandy’s collar, and stepped out the door, to see Mr. Buttons walking to my front door, holding Tiny, Blake’s Chihuahua.
“What are you doing with Tiny?” I blurted.
“I was just on my way down here to walk Sandy with you, when Blake drove up. He said he was on his way to see if you’d walk Tiny today,” he said, “but he saw me, so he gave me Tiny and took off. He wants us to mind him for the day. He said he was in a hurry.”
More like in a hurry to avoid me, I thought. Blake’s sure been acting strange lately. He was probably overjoyed to see Mr. Buttons and thus avoid having to ask me to walk Tiny.
I shrugged. “Oh well, we might as well walk at the dog park today,” I said. “Can you hold Sandy while I go back inside to get my car keys?”
My feeling of being sorry for myself subsided somewhat when we reached the dog park. Sandy and Tiny both loved the dog park, with all the interesting smells of the kangaroos and rabbits.
Lately, I had been in the habit of keeping Sandy on her leash, even though it was a coun
cil-designated off-leash area, as we had both been threatened by an off-leash pig dog only weeks earlier. While I thought neither of us looked like wild pigs, this dog obviously had thought we looked like prey, and I’d had some scary moments before the dog’s owner managed to get control over the dog and drag him away. I was lucky that Sandy had been on her leash at the time. I had reported the incident, and found that there was a Dangerous Dog Order on the dog, and that the owner had disregarded it by allowing the dog off her property. Dogs are not the actual problem; it’s their owners, but nevertheless, there was no way I was letting Sandy off-leash in a public place again.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t see that Mr. Buttons had let Tiny off his leash.
“Oh no, Mr. Buttons,” I exclaimed. “Keep him on the leash; it’s not safe.”
“What could possibly happen?” Mr. Buttons said. “He’s a well behaved dog. He won’t run off.”
I simply shrugged, and huddled into my scarf. I had a sense of foreboding, but no clue as to why. We hadn’t walked far when I saw a red, toy poodle approach, along with the person of Cynthia Devonshire. I had not groomed this poodle. It had a show clip, but I didn’t want Cynthia as a client at any rate.
When we drew closer to each other, she stopped, and looked down her nose at us. “I do hope your dog is a girl,” she said, in a snooty tone.
“Yes she is, why?” I asked her.
“It’s Gigi’s time,” she said in a lowered tone, while looking around the grounds furtively.
“Her time?” I said, followed by, “Oh. Well, she shouldn’t be out in public, surely.”
Cynthia shrugged. “She’s a small dog. I can easily pick her up if any male dogs approach. Gigi loves her walks, and I thought it was cruel to keep her locked up. I’ve been coming here at this time for days, and I haven’t seen a single other dog at all. Just as well, as Gigi is an Australian Champion show poodle. It’s very hard for the reds to do well, you know. Her real name is Floudles Princess Gigi Auburn Luxe. Floudles is my registered kennel name.”
“What a lovely name,” I lied, but was prevented from saying more by an ear-splitting scream. I looked down at my feet to see Cynthia lying face down on the dirt, her fingers trying hard to hang onto the last vestiges of Gigi’s leash as it slipped through her French-polished fingertips.
