Booked for Murder (Book 5 of the Lighthouse Inn Mysterys)

by Tim Myers

“Fine,” Alex said. After the man left, he decided to dive into the cleaning and make things right again as soon as he could. Maybe with the pedestal removed and the furniture back in the room, he’d be able to put the ugly murder and theft out of his mind. Hatteras West deserved better.

  Chapter 3

  Alex was cleaning the floor, scrubbing the last of the bloodstains from the wood when he spotted something against the baseboard. They had all missed it in their previous searches of the room, including Irene, but that was easy to understand. The small, flat square of gray metal was the size and thickness of a dime; it blended in with a floor grate that was almost the exact same color, nearly disappearing.

  Alex picked the metal up, held it in his hands and studied it. There were crisscrossing lines etched in its surface, embedded in lightning-strike patterns. The edges were polished smooth. It was the oddest thing Alex had ever seen. Putting it in his shirt pocket, he promised himself that he would show it to Armstrong when he came back out to the inn. Most likely it belonged to one of their guests long before the guard was killed, but Alex would show it to the sheriff just in case.

  Elise found him scrubbing the floor a few minutes later.

  “Let me do that, Alex.”

  He studied the faded spot, gave it one last swipe, then said, “That’s as good as it’s going to get. Do you have some free time? I’d really like to get this room in shape.”

  “That’s why I’m here. With all the furniture crammed into number 4, we’re losing two rooms.”

  “Let’s do it then.”

  As they carried the bed frame back to its rightful place, Elise said, “Alex, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

  “Go ahead. I’m a captive audience right now,” he said, pinned against the wall by the metal frame.

  “We’ve discussed this before, but I really think it’s time we changed the way we name our rooms,” Elise said. “I know your grandfather and father set things up this way, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only method available, or even the best one.”

  “Elise, if we renumber the rooms, I’ll never be able to find anything. What’s wrong with the order they’re in now, anyway?”

  “It’s not the order, Alex. I think we should do away with numbers altogether.”

  Alex raised one eyebrow. “How are we going to keep track of our guests without room numbers?”

  “I think we should come up with names for each of the rooms. It’s more personal that way.”

  Alex said, “So you think staying in ‘Bob’ is better than number 7?”

  She frowned slightly, then said, “Alex Winston, are you making fun of me?”

  “Maybe a little,” he admitted hastily.

  “Alex, you know perfectly well that I don’t want to call a room ‘Bob.’ But how about the Jasmine Suite? We could have a Carolina Room, a Foothills Retreat, a Keeper’s Rest, the possibilities are endless.”

  “I like those names better than ‘Bob,’ I’ll grant you that, but I’m still not sure we need to make a change.”

  “Alex, I don’t want to keep harping on this, but we need guests, and if we can make the place feel more charming in our brochures, we might have a better chance keeping things afloat.”

  Alex stared out the window at the lighthouse, collecting his thoughts before he trusted himself to speak. “I guess a lighthouse in the mountains isn’t enough of a pull anymore, is it?”

  She moved beside him, put her hand on his shoulder and said softly, “Alex, trust me, they’ll fall in love with the lighthouse, but we have to get them here first. If you’re against renaming the rooms, I won’t push you about it.”

  He thought about it for another full minute, then said, “Why not? Let’s do it.”

  Elise nodded, “That’s great.” She paused, then added, “I don’t know how we can keep from having an Emerald Room even with what just happened, but it should probably be in the other building.”

  “I don’t want anything at Hatteras West to remind me about what happened today.”

  Elise said, “We can talk about it later. Does the sheriff have a clue about what happened?”

  “If Armstrong does, he’s not telling me. Reston’s positive the stone’s a fake, and I’m not one to doubt him when it comes to his own emerald. He thinks it’s cursed, you know.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. You know the stories about the Hope Diamond, don’t you?”

  “Now don’t you start,” Alex said. “One believer around here is more than enough for me.”

  “I didn’t say I believed it,” Elise said, and Alex felt relief until she added, “But I didn’t say I didn’t, either. Well, I’d better get back to cleaning my rooms.”

  As Alex put the last of the furniture back in place, he moved the rug that had been there before and covered the ghost of a stain still on the floor. The pedestal was outside in the hallway, along with the remnant of carpet it had sat on. Reston had brought both pieces with him, and Alex realized he’d have to go into town to return the man’s property, since it was doubtful Reston Shay would ever step foot in Hatteras West again.

  But Reston was still at the inn, sitting on the front porch of the Main Keeper’s Quarters in one of the rocking chairs, staring up at the lighthouse.

  “I thought you’d already gone,” Alex said as he put the base and the carpet down beside the rocker.

  Reston shrugged. “If you want to know the honest truth, I don’t feel much like being alone right now.”

  Alex said, “I can certainly understand that.”

  Reston took a deep breath, then said, “Alex, do you have a spare room out here? I might just stay on a while. I find myself with a real need for company.”

  “We’ve got room for you,” Alex admitted. “Not that I’m not glad to have you, but are you sure it won’t be too painful for you, staying here where the emerald was stolen?”

  “On the contrary, I believe I’ll be able to deal with the loss better if I’m right here. I know it might sound morbid, but is there any way I can stay in the room where it was taken? Don’t ask me why, but I’d feel better being there. Besides, my insurance man will probably be out again later, and it’s not fair to keep you from income I know you need.”

  As they walked back inside, Alex said, “Don’t worry about me. The room is yours for as long as you want it.”

  Elise was checking the reservation book out front as they came in. “Mr. Shay,” she said, “I’m so sorry about your loss.”

  “Thank you, my dear.”

  She stood there in silence, uncertain about what to do until Alex said, “Reston is going to be staying with us for a while. He’s requested the same room.”

  Elise bit back her surprise, but Alex could see it flash across her face. “Of course,” she said as she led them back to the room.

  “I’ll have my people bring a few things out later,” Reston said. “For now, I think I’d like to be alone for awhile.”

  Alex and Elise went back down the hall after he closed the door, holding their conversation until they were sure he could no longer hear them.

  Elise said, “He wants to stay in that room? Tonight?”

  Alex said, “I know, I don’t get it either. But hey, he’s paying for the privilege. I wasn’t about to tell him he couldn’t stay there.”

  “You did the right thing, but I still don’t get it,” Elise said.

  As they neared the desk, Alex asked her, “So, will we be having fresh muffins in the morning?”

  “They always are, aren’t they?” she replied.

  “Come on, you know what I’m talking about.”

  Elise smiled gently. “I’ve agreed to try the Muffin Lady’s offerings for one week, strictly on a trial basis. After that, we’ll see.”

  Alex said, “As long as I get a pumpkin one every morning, I’ll be happy.”

  Elise laughed. “Don’t worry, that was one of my first conditions.”

  Alex smiled softly at her. “Outstanding.�
� He took a deep breath, then said, “Speaking of food, have you heard about the new restaurant in town?”

  “Monet’s Garden? Everybody’s buzzing about it, especially Irma Bean. She’s afraid it’s going to put her out of business.”

  “Nonsense,” Alex said. “Folks are ready for a change of pace, but they’ll come back to her, you mark my words. Anyway, I was wondering if you might like to try Monet’s with me tomorrow night?”

  Elise’s brow crinkled. “Are you asking me out on another date, Alex? Wasn’t the last one disastrous enough for you?”

  “Come on, we said we’d try again. We don’t even have to call it a date if you don’t want to. Just two people going out to dinner, enjoying each other’s company.”

  Elise thought about it a moment, then said, “I don’t care what we call it. It sounds like fun.”

  Alex grinned at her and said, “It’s a date, then.” Before she could reply, he said, “Kidding. I’m just kidding.”

  She said seriously, “Maybe a date is exactly what I’d like to call it.” Elise started to walk off, turned and added, “Now you’ll have to decide if I’m kidding or not. See you later.”

  He was still trying to figure it out when the newlywed Pendletons walked into the inn. From the look of the storm clouds on Mor and Emma’s faces, all had not been blissful during their time away.

  “She wants to keep Sturbridge, if you can believe that,” Mor said, scowling at his bride. “After all the trouble that creep caused while he was alive, he’s still meddling in my life beyond the grave.”

  Emma said, “Oh, pooh. Mor Pendleton, I’ve been Emma Sturbridge for so long I don’t know if I’d ever manage as Emma Pendleton.”

  “And why not?” the big man rumbled. “Pendleton is a fine name.”

  Evidently their argument had been going on since the two had said their vows. They’d extended their honeymoon an extra two weeks after hearing that Toby Sturbridge’s killer had been caught, and Alex had missed them in their absence.

  Elise came in, hugging Emma and Mor at the same time. “Welcome back, you two. How was the cruise?”

  Emma said, “It was delightful. Three weeks at sea does a body good.”

  “Me, I’m glad to be back home,” Mor said. “Les is going crazy trying to do everything by himself. He’s been threatening to change the name of the place to ‘Just Les, No Mor No More.’”

  “How clever of him,” Emma said.

  “Woman, you’re just trying to get my goat, and I’m not going to give you the satisfaction. Okay, you had to say hello to Alex and Elise. Now can we go back to my apartment and unpack?”

  “Your apartment?” Emma asked. “I naturally just assumed we’d be taking up residence in my cottage when we returned.”

  “That place is all sharp angles, I’ll kill myself there. What’s wrong with my apartment?” he asked.

  “Nothing, if you like neighbors surrounding you from all sides. Now my cottage has all the room you could need. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to living there in no time.”

  Alex said, “You could always stay here until you decide where you’re going to live. We’d love to have you.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Mor said, then a second later Emma added, “It’s sweet of you to offer, dear friends, but we’ll work this out. Mor, are you coming?”

  “If you could tell me where we’re going, it might help,” he said, winking at Alex out of Emma’s line of sight.

  “It’s a surprise,” Emma said.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Mor added as the door shut behind them.

  Alex looked at Elise, and both of them started laughing at the same time. Alex said, “I don’t envy them the decisions they’re going to have to make.”

  Elise said, “Don’t kid yourself, they’re going to enjoy every minute of it. We should take them with us to Monet’s Garden, kind of a welcome back gesture.”

  “A double-date,” Alex pretended to consider it, fighting to hide his smile. “I don’t know about that. I kind of hoped to have you to myself.”

  “Oh, Alex, you’re hopeless.”

  “I do my best,” he said as she headed back toward her room.

  Armstrong called later that night just as Alex was heading off to bed.

  “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” the sheriff asked.

  “I’m just getting around to closing the inn for the night. What’s going on?”

  “I thought you’d like to know what’s been happening, seeing how it all took place out there at your inn,” the sheriff said. “Jasper Hanks just left my office. Remember, I told you he’s my gemstone guy from Hiddenite.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “Turns out the emerald really is a fake. It’s nothing but pretty glass. When you match it to a picture of the Carolina Rhapsody, they don’t look all that much alike, not up close, so just about anybody could have had it made. The gold’s real, though. Still can’t figure out how it ended up in Cliff’s pocket.”

  Alex said, “So where does that leave things?” He had to catch himself from saying, “where does that leave us.” That would bring Armstrong’s truculent side out and would most likely cut off Alex’s supply of information.

  The sheriff said, “I need to start digging around in the usual places. Reston Shay’s got to be a suspect, since it was his stone stolen, but I can’t rule out the folks in Cliff’s life either. I know the stone is most likely the main reason he was murdered, but somebody might have just considered it a bonus. I doubt it, but it’s a possibility I’ve got to follow up on.”

  Alex asked, “Do you think the murderer planned this for awhile, or was it spur of the moment?”

  Armstrong was silent for a few seconds, then said, “To be honest with you, I think it was a little bit of both.”

  “I don’t follow,” Alex said.

  “Think about it. The murder weapon was right there at the inn, so it’s not like that was planned out in advance or anything. On the other hand, we’ve got to consider the fake. It looked enough like the Carolina Rhapsody to fool most folks unless you got up close to it, so there had to be some planning involved. I can’t imagine somebody just walking around with that thing in their pocket. When’s the last time you saw the real thing? Or could you tell?”

  “From a distance? No, but as close as I was to it, when Elise and I saw the emerald this afternoon it looked like the real thing to me. That was around three, I guess.”

  “So between three and five p.m., somebody snuck in, killed Cliff, and stole the emerald. Any suspicious folks hanging around the inn over the last few days?”

  “Nobody comes to mind.”

  “Did anybody check in or out today?”

  “Slick and Nancy Hickman checked out early this morning before all this happened. They had to head back to West Virginia. Oh, I almost forgot. There was also a woman who came by. She called herself the Muffin Lady. She was here sometime around four, I guess. “

  Armstrong laughed. “Yeah, I know all about her. She was handing out muffins in town yesterday, and causing a whale of a traffic jam at Five Corners. Sometimes I wonder what Elkton Falls is coming to, what with this new restaurant opening up and the muffin woman showing up, too.”

  “Hey, I guess some folks call it progress,” Alex said as he stifled a yawn.

  Armstrong caught it and said, “Well, I’ll let you go. I just thought you’d like to know what was going on. Alex, you keep your nose out of this and I’ll touch base with you every now and then. But if you start snooping...” He let the phrase hang in the air.

  “No problem,” Alex said. “I’ve got enough to do running this inn.”

  “Then we understand each other. Good-night, then.”

  “Good-night,” Alex said as he hung up the telephone. He hadn’t been entirely honest with the sheriff. Alex wasn’t about to let it go completely, though he didn’t plan to do any active digging. He still had a vested interest in the murder and theft; after all, they had both happene
d on Winston property. In a very real way, that made it his business.

  Too late, Alex remembered the odd metal token he’d found in the room where the murder had taken place. He thought about calling Armstrong back, but then decided to wait till later. Most likely it wasn’t a clue at all, probably just a discarded piece from someone’s travel game.

  He’d have to talk to Reston the next day about the Carolina Rhapsody, and try to find out who might have been behind the theft. It was a puzzle that would most likely lead to discovering the killer.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Alex stared at the amazing glut of muffins on the continental breakfast bar they put out for their guests and asked, “Elise, did you forget to cancel the muffins from Buck’s this week while we’re trying the new ones?’

  It was easy to tell the Muffin Lady’s products from Buck’s; they were twice the size of their standard fare, towering over Sally Anne’s offerings like bullies on the beach.

  Elise said, “I talked to Sally Anne last night, but she brought more this morning on her own. She said she wasn’t giving up that easily.”

  “I’d better call her and make sure everything’s okay between us,” Alex said, reaching for the telephone. Doing business in a small town was very much like working with family. He saw Buck and Sally Anne at their diner at least three times a week, and if this new Muffin Lady drove a wedge between them, no matter how good her baked treats were, it wasn’t worth losing two of his good friends.

  Just as he’d dreaded, Buck answered the phone at the diner with a grumble. The man was an ex-boxer, and while he and Alex had always gotten along, that was one side of Buck that Alex made a point to avoid.

  “Buck, it’s Alex.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, and Alex held his breath waiting for Buck’s pronouncement.

  The big man said, “Listen, we need to talk.”

  “Okay, I’m willing to do just that,” Alex said. He took a deep breath, stalling for time to come up with some way to deal with the situation.

  It was a good thing he had. Buck continued, “Sally Anne told me she pushed more stuff on you this morning, and I explained to her that wasn’t how we did business. It won’t happen again.”