Kari Lee Townsend - Sunny Meadows 04 - Perish in the Palm

by Kari Lee Townsend

  “Since Linda hired me to do a job, Mr. West,” Jo snapped, adding on a grumble, “At least someone wants me.”

  “Well, technically, she didn’t actually hire you to do the job,” Zoe chimed in, and then wince apologetically.

  “I’m pretty sure she didn’t hire you either, love,” Sean added his two bits, earning him a scowl of his own.

  “Look, I’m just trying to help. Maybe if I can figure out how and when Peirce is going to come into money, then Linda can keep the inn going. It’s all she has left, and I just feel like it’s the least I can do.” I tried to plead my case.

  “Might I remind you there’s a killer on the loose?” my father boomed. “And frankly, Vivian, I’m surprised you would want anything to do with this.”

  She snapped her spine straight. “Since no one else has any time for me, what on earth did you expect me to do?”

  “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, that’s the farthest thing from the truth,” Granny Gert chimed in. “Fiona and I have spent all our time doing nothing but thinking about you. Who in the world do you think this party is for?”

  “Then shouldn’t I be a part of it?” my mother responded with an appalled tone. “Now that the wedding is over and I’m under suspicion, no one seems to want a single thing to do with me. I’m normally a strong woman, but this is tough, I tell you.”

  Granny and Fiona started fussing over my mother, reassuring her that they still believed in her. Meanwhile, Cole and Sean were alternating lecturing and apologizing to Jo and Zoe, who remained stoically miffed. I sighed, and Mitch grunted. Peeking at him from the corner of my eye, I could see his disapproval clear as day.

  “What?” I finally said, unable to hide my exasperation.

  “You promised to stay out of this case,” he replied.

  “What do you think I was trying to do?” I threw my hands up.

  “With you, Tink, I never know.”

  “According to you, my readings aren’t real, so technically this shouldn’t affect your case in one way or another, right?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “There’s still a killer on the loose, Sunny. And if he or she had something against Peirce, they just might have something against Linda. I don’t want you anywhere near that inn. And why in the name of all that’s holy would you put your friends in danger?”

  “Well, you see, that wasn’t really my fault…”

  “With you, Tink, it never is.”

  “Would you stop saying that?” I snapped, spreading my arms wide. “I can’t control their actions.”

  “No, but you can control your own.” He shoved a hand through his hair and then dropped them to his waist. “For once in your life quit being so stubborn and listen to someone else.”

  “You should talk. You’re so hard-headed you won’t let anyone help you. You don’t have to be alone in this, Mitch.”

  “I’m the cop, you’re not. Why can’t you remember that?’

  “I’m not trying to be a cop. I never was.”

  “Look, I don’t want to argue, but you make it damned difficult. I can’t worry about you and do my job.” He blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you would just let me do my job, things would be so much easier.”

  “Agreed, but it goes both ways, Detective.” I raised my chin. “You don’t have to believe in what I do. In fact, I don’t expect you ever will. But I do expect you to give me enough respect and consideration to allow me to do my job.”

  A knock sounded at the door and seconds later, Captain Walker poked his head inside. “Am I interrupting something?”

  We all just stared at him, growing quiet and looking guilty. Granny finally gave him a wave, and fluttered her eyelashes, but even that was half-hearted at best.

  Captain Walker raised a brow, and then looked at Mitch. “May I have a word, Detective Stone?”

  “Of course.” He headed for the door, looking over his should at the last second. “This isn’t over, Tink.”

  “With you, Detective Grumpy Pants, it never is.”

  Chapter 12

  The next morning I stood outside of our town Vet’s office, waiting for Dr. Sherry Parker to let me in. She had agreed to meet me here before office hours since I was supposed to hook up with the girls for shopping soon. It was a dreary fall day, with a chilly breeze blowing the smell of wet leaves and decaying earth around. Normally I loved fall. The vibrant colors and crisp air making Divinity look beautiful. But the recent murder had put a damper on the season, reminding me that fall meant the death of so many things. After my argument with Mitch the day before, I was fearful my own Fate Line was at risk.

  Would we always be at odds when it came to our careers?

  The door opened and Sherry popped her head out, her wide smile cheering me up instantly. She might be my cat’s doctor, but we had become more than that over the past year. We had become friends.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Her brown ponytail swung about as she moved. “I had a minor problem with my own pooch. Took me forever to get out of the house.” Her eyes were such a warm brown, kind and full of compassion. It was no wonder she was so well-liked by all the pet owners in Divinity.

  “I hope everything’s okay,” I said, genuinely concerned because I knew how much animals meant to her.

  She held the door open and waved me inside. “Oh, he’s fine. He’s just getting old. Now this one I can never quite tell what’s up with.” She gestured to Morty as I set him on the exam table.

  I chuckled. “You and me both.”

  Morty didn’t like many people, but he had developed a soft spot for Sherry. She normally used homemade treats and toys unique to each of her regular animals she treated. With Morty, she had been at a loss as to how to get through to him since he didn’t seem to eat or play for her. Until one day she found out by accident that he was partial to the massage therapy she used for certain pets. Since then that had become their thing.

  “What seems to be the problem with Sir Morty?” She rubbed him down until he purred louder and louder, softening like putty in her hands.

  I couldn’t help but grin from ear-to-ear every time I saw him become the consistency of Jell-O as she massaged him with a firm but gentle touch. His black eyes seemed to glow through the slits his half-closed eyelids had formed. He was such an independent, arrogant, proud cat, it was quite amusing to see his limbs wobbly. When he caught my expression, I swore he could read my mind. He stood straight, stretched, then hopped out of her embrace and walked to the end of the table.

  My jaw fell open, and it took me a minute to recover. “Nothing, apparently,” I said, unable to register what my eyes were seeing.

  “Pardon me?” Sherry blinked, looking confused.

  “Well, he’s been acting stranger than usual lately. First he kept rubbing at his eye and digging in the dirt, and then he’s been limping for an entire day like there was something wrong with his leg. Now he’s walking like he’s half his age. I guess I just don’t get it.” The wedding was over, Mitch had lived with me for a while now, there was nothing new that had happened. So what was causing this crazy behavior?

  “Hmmm.” Sherry examined him. “His eye looks fine, and he seems to be walking great. Maybe he just wanted to see his favorite vet and get a free massage.” She wagged her eyebrows at me and wrinkled her nose at him.

  “Maybe,” I said, studying him suspiciously.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much. He seems fit as a fiddle to me, but by all means bring him back anytime. I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She leaned over and said in a mock whisper, “I think up excuses to see him, too. Why don’t I finish giving him a therapeutic massage, and I’ll run him home for you when I’m finished.”

  My jaw fell open. “Seriously?” She nodded vigorously, so I continued, “That would be fantastic. Thank you so much.”

  “No problem. Now get on out of here. You’ve got some shopping to do. While you’re at it, please get your granny some new material. Morty’s bowties are comple
tely out of season.” She tsked in a perfect imitation of Granny Gert.

  We both laughed, and after saying our goodbyes, I headed to the fashion district to meet my mother, Jo, and Zoe. The more I thought about it, I came to a conclusion. As much as Morty loved his massage therapy, I realized this wasn’t the first time Morty had acted strange. And whenever he started acting strange, it usually meant one thing. He was trying to tell me something.

  The real mystery was figuring out what.

  ***

  Jo was in much better spirits that afternoon with her cute new outfits that were chic and flattering yet had room for her to grow. I had to admit my mother’s taste was impeccable, and Zoe looked like a fashion model. Where Jo was va-va-voom and sassy, Zoe was oh-so-chic and classy. I felt like Plain Jane tagging along after them, being no help whatsoever.

  “You guys ready to go?” I asked. “I’d say we’ve given Mr. Lalone enough time to find those old floor plans.”

  “Actually your grandmother and Fiona have asked for my help in planning the Fall Harvest party,” my mother said, sounding happy.

  “That’s great, Mom.” I squeezed her hand.

  “I knew they couldn’t get along without me.” She stood and grabbed her purse. “It’s been fun, ladies. Please do try and stay out of trouble.” Her gaze settled on me for a moment, and then she left.

  “I have to say I’m relieved I won’t have to worry about her getting into it with Linda or anyone else. The last thing she needs is to mess up her case.” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “You guys ready?”

  Jo and Zoe’s gaze met in a meaningful way.

  “Um, well, I hate to do this to you but I have an afternoon tea party to host at Smokey Jo’s for the Mystery Mavens Book Club,” Zoe said.

  “Oh, okay, no problem.” I turned to Jo with questioning eyes.

  “Sorry, Sonny, but there’s no way I’m saddling her with Sean alone, given the problems they’re having. You understand, right?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. No worries.” I donned a smile, trying to reassure them as best I could. “This is my job, not yours. You both have your own jobs. I totally get that. I’ll fill you in if I find anything.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I headed to the inn in the same dreary mood I’d started the day with. It had stopped raining, but the clouds still shrouded Divinity, blocking out the warmth of the sun. I passed by the housekeeper who was arguing with the groundskeeper over the bushes out front. Inside, I passed by the cook who was preparing another tray for Linda and looking in a foul mood. It seemed the weather was affecting everyone today.

  “Ah, just the man I came to see,” I said as I spotted the maintenance man coming out of Peirce’s office.

  “Perfect timing.” He held a large rolled up set of floor plans that looked ancient in his hands. “I found the old floor plans. Not an easy task, let me tell you. They weren’t in the regular filing cabinet with the others. I had to do some digging, but I found them in an old cabinet in the back that never gets used.”

  “Well, thank you, Mr. Lalone. I greatly appreciate it.” I took the plans from him and shook his hand.

  “You’re welcome.” He eyed me curiously. “Let me know if I can be of any more help. I can show you around if you want.”

  “Thank you again, but I’m all set.” I could tell he was dying to know what I needed the floor plans for, but how could I tell them when I didn’t even know myself. No, until I figured this out, it was probably best I kept things quiet.

  I walked away, wandering into the empty living room. Finally, blessedly alone. Spreading the plans out on the table, I studied them. Pulling out the new set of floor plans that I still had, I compared them side-by-side. I was no architect, but it was easy enough to see a couple of bedrooms and one bathroom had been added. I squinted, looking closer for something I was missing. That was when I noticed what looked to be a basement. Something about that room drew me to it in a strong way.

  Just then Sally Clark entered the room, paused a beat when she saw me, and then frowned as she started to head back the other way.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m all set in here.” I stood and gathered up my maps. As I started to leave, I faced her for a moment. “Have I done something to offend you, Ms. Clark?”

  “Mrs. Theodore has been through enough, I should think. First, those scary phone calls, then losing her dear husband, and now in jeopardy of losing the inn. The last thing she needs is someone nosing around, casting suspicion on her.”

  “I’m not trying to put her through any more grief, I promise you. I’m actually trying to help her. If I can find out how Mr. Theodore was supposed to come into his fortune, I just might be able to help Mrs. Theodore save her livelihood. I feel as though I owe that to him, to them both.”

  She studied me for a long moment and then nodded once, sharply. “Before the murder, there were rumors going around that there would be layoffs for many of us. Then when we heard about Mr. Theodore’s life insurance, we had hope. But now that Mrs. Theodore has a buyer, we’ll probably be laid off anyway.” Sally shook her head sadly.

  “Wait, she has a buyer?” I asked, surprised. “But I just talked to her the other day, and she was on board with letting me try to help.”

  “Let’s be realistic, Miss Meadows. Your plan is a longshot at best. I don’t blame Mrs. Theodore. She really has no choice, short of a miracle. The buyer sought her out. She’d be a fool to turn it down.”

  I headed for the hallway.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find her miracle.”

  Minutes later, I entered the kitchen. “Ah, there you are, Mr. Desjardins.” The French cook looked up from his recipe book with a startled expression on his face. I tended to do that to people as of late, I realized. I took a breath and forced myself to relax. “Does this house happen to have a basement?”

  “No,” he said pensively, “no basement.” Then he paused before adding, “But it does have a root cellar. Why?”

  “Just looking for a miracle.” I searched through the kitchen until I found the door leading to the cellar, then I jogged down the stairs with enthusiasm.

  “You won’t find anything down there but canned goods, potatoes and turnips. You want a miracle come back to my kitchen at dinner time. Then I show you a miracle,” he said from the top of the stairs with his thick, charming, French accent.

  I just shook my head with a grin and started looking around. He was right. All I saw were lots and lots of food items on many shelves. I was probably down there for a good hour when I grabbed onto a particularly old shelf at the back of the cellar. A strange sensation came over me, and I was transported back in time. Standing in this very spot, I knew I had been here before. The proof was in the same shelves which were many years newer with less food stored on them. My body ached once more, and I gasped for breath.

  They were coming. They would find me soon. I had to keep moving before it was too late. I had to move it before they discovered what I had. I had to…

  I let out an ear-piercing scream as I heard a crack and felt blood spurt. Pain shot through my skull, and I fell to the dirt floor in a limp heap and everything went black.

  “Miss Meadows, are you all right?” Pierre asked from above me sometime later. Behind him stood Jack, Frank, Sally, and Linda.

  I grabbed my head as I slowly sat up. “I think so,” I wheezed. “Someone hit me from behind.”

  They all looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

  “Who?” Pierre asked. “I was in the kitchen the whole time. No one but you came down here.”

  “I’m telling you, my head is bleeding like crazy and feels like it’s going to fall off. Please, someone, grab me a towel.”

  Jack knelt down beside me and looked at my pupils. “Hmmm, no concussion that I can see.”

  “I’m not crazy.” I winced at the still lingering pain.

  “You’re also not bleeding.” He felt my head and showed me his dry hand. “You also don�
��t have a bump.”

  It suddenly dawned on me what had happened. “Help me up, would you?”

  Jack helped me to my wobbly feet, eyeing me with concern.

  “I might not have been literally hit or have a bump,” I looked them each in the eye, knowing I was going to sound crazy as I finished with, “but he was and he did.”

  “He?” Sally asked.

  “The person in my vision.”

  “You sure she doesn’t have a concussion?” Frank eyed me warily.

  “Positive.” Jack rechecked my pupils.

  “Well, she sure isn’t acting okay,” Linda said. “What are you talking about, Miss Meadows?”

  “Your miracle.”

  “My what?”

  “Your miracle.” I shook my head and winced again. “Your way to save the inn. And it’s right through here.” I pointed to a shelf full of goods.

  “There’s nothing there but food.” Pierre scratched his head.

  “Look behind the food,” I said. “Behind the plywood.”

  Linda sighed. “This had better be worth damaging my root cellar.” She gestured for Pierre and Jack to move the food shelf and then for Frank to take down the plywood. The men responded immediately, and I couldn’t help wonder if one of them could be her mystery lover. They all seemed to adore her, including Sally.

  I pushed that thought aside as the plywood was fully removed. “Viola,” I said, pointing triumphantly over their gasps to an ancient hidden door that led to a secret tunnel. I rubbed my phantom aching head. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide this passageway. I’m betting what’s inside will definitely be worth your while.”

  Chapter 13

  “It’s so cold in here,” Sally Clark said from behind me.

  “And creepy,” Linda Theodore added from beside her.

  “You ladies really didn’t have to come along.” I led the way through the damp, dark, secret tunnel. Of course because the entire town of Divinity was old-fashioned, the inn catered to that charm with authentic oil lamps. I felt like I’d been swept back in time. Tripping over a tree root poking up through the ground, I realized this was the same path the man in my vision must have traveled.