by Jan Coffey
Dinner would start at six. Cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in the lobby at five. That was his chance to get introduced to the other guests, perhaps ask one or two questions. He opened the suitcase and took out his pistol and a cartridge. Loading the weapon, he checked it, unloaded it, and laid the gun on the quilt. Ian pulled out a manila envelope stuffed with papers and dropped it next to the gun. All the clothes from the suitcase went into the dresser. Pausing, he checked his cell phone. No service.
As he pulled on a clean shirt, Ian caught sight of a small photograph. He picked it up and looked into the smiling face of the young woman.
“Soon,” he whispered, tucking the picture into his shaving pouch. The pistol and the envelope went back into the suitcase. He spun the dials on the combination lock and tested it before sliding the case under the bed.
Ian looked at his watch. It was already five thirty. Time to get the ball rolling.
~~~~
Tantalizing aromas drifted out of the kitchen and down the hall. None of the guests had come downstairs yet to taste Wilson’s delectable appetizers. Bill had established himself behind a rolling bar near the fireplace and was polishing glasses. Janice was sitting at the reception desk and speaking to someone on the phone. The afternoon breeze was mild and comfortable, and all the windows were still open.
Kelly looked anxiously toward the door to the porch. No sign of Jade and Cassy yet. They were not late, she told herself. She stepped into the porch dining area. Rita was just finishing setting the dinner tables.
“You’ve been on the go all day. I’ll help you with serving the tables tonight,” Kelly offered.
“Whatever,” Rita said in her usual rough, no-nonsense manner. She picked up the blackboard they updated every night with the dinner entrees.
“Let me do that.” Kelly took the board from Rita’s hand. “Why don’t you go have your dinner? Sit and veg for a few minutes before the insanity starts?”
The only reaction from the woman was a shrug before going out to the kitchen.
Though she was only in her early thirties, Rita was another old-timer at the inn. She’d been working there since she was eighteen, right out of high school.
From about the first week Kelly was here, she realized that dealing with Rita was difficult. The woman’s moodiness and her confrontational attitude were a little tough to take at times. But trying to look past those things, Kelly had soon seen that the woman was a workhorse. With no family that anyone knew of, Rita spent every minute at the inn when they needed her. And help was difficult to find around here.
Over the course of two years, the two women had learned how to deal with each other. Or at least Kelly had. She just told Rita what had to be done, then she got out of the way.
Kelly’s eyes followed the trail along the shoreline, hoping for a glimpse of Jade and Cassy. No one. The nerves in her stomach cinched up tightly. It was all Ian Campbell’s fault. She wouldn’t be even thinking about this if it weren’t for him planting all those ideas in her head.
She took the chalk and the board and headed for the kitchen. She’d offered to do the job for Rita, but she didn’t know the exact menu for dinner.
The couple from Philadelphia had appeared. They were standing by the bar cart and chatting with Bill. The three smiled at Kelly as she walked through the parlor. Ian Campbell was coming down the stairs, as well. His gaze met Kelly’s, and then he glanced at the sofa and at Jade’s books, stacked on an end table. A pang of worry went through her again as she realized she wasn’t alone in wondering about her daughter’s whereabouts.
They’ll be along, she told herself.
As she went by the desk, Kelly whispered to Janice. “Be nice to all of them,”
The old woman smiled. She already had her hostess face on.
Kelly slipped into the office and buzzed the intercom for her apartment upstairs. There was a slim chance that Cassy had brought Jade in without Kelly seeing them, and they’d just gone straight up. There was no answer.
In the kitchen, Dan was having his dinner and Rita was fazing out, staring at the TV. She was glad they were there. If there was one person who bothered Kelly, it was the inn’s cook, who was standing by the stove. There were a dozen times she’d considered letting Wilson Blade go, but he was a tremendous asset to the inn. He was easily one of the best chefs in the area, and his dishes brought in a good number of extra dinner guests once the summer season really got rolling. Why, she’d seen him twice turn down offers from the Balsams to go and cook for them. Besides, he never really gave her a concrete reason to fire him. Like so many other things around here, Wilson Blade was something she could not easily change. Still, he bothered her.
“I need to copy the dinner menu,” she said.
Wilson paused in stirring a sauce, and his gaze warmed as he looked up at her. The hair stood up on Kelly’s neck. This wasn’t the first time—not even the hundredth time—that he made her feel uncomfortable.
He was always watching her. He hovered over her, and it gave her the creeps. The weird thing was that he wasn’t looking at her like some construction worker ogling a woman on the street. He didn’t stare at her breasts or her butt. It was difficult to define…it was something in his eyes. He acted like a guard dog. She didn’t need one—hadn’t asked for one—and never encouraged his behavior in any way. From the moment she’d met him, Wilson stared at her as if she were some treasured cut of beef.
The whole thing was too strange. There were many nights when she thought he had gone home, and she would gaze out her apartment window and see him standing outside, smoking beneath the trees. Sometimes he would look up at her windows. On a few occasions when she’d taken Jade to a local fair or a sale, she’d run into him. He seemed to be everywhere she went. If the activities in the area were not so limited, she might have considered him a stalker, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to that point.
Still, Kelly never allowed Jade to go into the kitchen alone, and she never put herself in a position where she was alone with him. He’d never made an inappropriate advance or said or done anything overtly out of line, or that would have been the end of his employment. But even so, her skin still crawled.
“Blade, didn’t you write the stuff on that piece of paper for Rita to copy?” Dan said, coming to her rescue.
“It’s already been changed,” Wilson growled, crumpling the paper before tossing it into the trash bin.
Kelly wouldn’t have been as uncomfortable about Wilson’s behavior if he were consistent. If he were one bit pleasant to others—if there were even a trace of civility in his conduct with his fellow workers or with anyone else—she would have felt somewhat better about his oddly protective behavior. Added to that, Wilson Blade’s past was a bit of a mystery. No one knew a thing about him. Neither Janice nor Bill would admit to hiring him in the first place, though he was already here when Kelly’s parents bought the place. The Maitlands were also both quick to name a hundred reasons why Kelly should keep him any time they sensed she was becoming aggravated with him.
The funny thing was that she’d tried exactly what Ian Campbell had suggested with Cassy. The park conservation officer she’d talked to about running a background check had looked at her as if she had two heads when she’d mentioned it. It was not something he was regularly asked to do, but he took the information she gave him and made a call to the police station in Colebrook and to the state police barracks in Twin Mountain. Wilson Blade was an ex-biker who’d had many brushes with the law in his younger years. No prison, but lots of minor arrests for alcohol and drugs before finding Jesus and getting sober. He had been a model citizen ever since, as far as the State of New Hampshire was concerned. It didn’t appear that she had anything to worry about, the cops had told her.
Well, maybe not from where they were standing, she thought.
“What should I put on the board?” Kelly asked again, trying not to show her uneasiness as Wilson continued to scrutinize her silently.
He told he
r what the three entrees were.
“And what’s the soup?”
“Cream of broccoli.”
She made a mistake in spelling broccoli and his hand was right there, wiping the word for her. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she edged away from him.
“You look cold,” he said. “You should go up and put a sweater on.”
“I can look after myself, Wilson. Any appetizers?”
“It ain’t a good idea putting that stranger on the third floor. He’s too close to you and Jade.”
She was about to remind him that it wasn’t his job to worry about where the guests were placed when she heard the screen door open and close. She was relieved to see Cassy carrying Jade in.
“She fell sleep,” the teenager whispered as soon as she saw her. “I’ll take her upstairs.”
Kelly looked at her child’s face, her dirty hands and muddy shoes.
“No, I’ll take her.”
She peeled her daughter away from Cassy’s shoulder and took her in her arms.
“Was she feeling okay?” she asked, touching Jade’s forehead. She wasn’t feverish.
“Yeah. She’s been running around like a maniac since we left. She got exhausted and wanted to be carried about twenty minutes ago.” Cassy pulled out a leaf that had gotten tangled in Jade’s hair. “I hadn’t realized we’d gone so far. It was a hike carrying her back.”
“Jade getting too big for that.”
The teenager shrugged. “She’s a trouper, for most part.”
Kelly motioned toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you get something to eat, and I’ll get Bill or Dan to drive you home.”
“That’s okay. My mom is coming to get me.” She caressed Jade’s hair one more time. “So, do you need me tomorrow, or should I come back Sunday?”
“Sunday. But I’ll call you if I need you sooner,” she told the teenager, as Dan offered to finish writing the menu for her.
Kelly used the backstairs to take Jade to their apartment. She was working her child harder than she should. The swimming classes were a lot, and then letting Cassy take her for a long walk on top of it was too much. And Jade hadn’t had any kind of nutritious lunch to speak of. And now, the three year old was asleep and would miss dinner, too.
Kelly knew guilt’s whisper well, and she could hear it now. Any time Jade was sick—or fell and got a bruise—whenever her daughter had cried, no matter the reason, the voice was in her ear. She tried, but she just didn’t know if she was being a good mother or not. She’d never had anyone to use as a model—at least not when she’d been Jade’s age.
At the top of the stairs, she spotted the little table that had been moved next to the door of her apartment. Jade’s books from downstairs were stacked neatly on top of it. Next to them, two chocolate chip cookies sat on a napkin.
Kelly smiled as she pushed open the door. She didn’t know anything about Ian Campbell. Despite the type of business she was in, she was always wary of strangers. She and Jade were slow to trust. Slower to accept. But there was something different about Ian Campbell.
Chapter 5
Victor Desposito had presence. At least, he had as much presence as a man can have at five foot five. His companion Brian, more heavily built and six inches taller, was far more reserved.
Saying a simple hello to Victor had been enough of an encouragement to launch him into a complete history of himself and his friend. Within a few minutes, Ian learned that both men were from Philadelphia. Victor was in the antique business. Brian was an artist, who worked side jobs as a carpenter. The absolute best hands in Philadelphia, if Victor was to be believed. Ian decided to take his word for it. Brian also worked part time in the antique store that Victor managed for a dealer named Ellie Littlefield. The two of them were up here for some important auction that Ellie couldn’t come up for herself.
This was more than Ian needed to know about the two men. He glanced around the lobby, hoping to learn as much about some of the other guests. But with their drinks in hand, Vic and Brian were right on his shoulder as he introduced himself to Marisa and Dave Meadows, a young couple here on their honeymoon.
Pleasant and somewhat shy, the two had a wholesome look. Ian noted the wary look on the part of the husband toward the gay couple. Before Ian could say anything beyond the initial introductions, Victor was talking.
“Will you look at the bone structure on this girl,” he expostulated, moving next to Marisa. She had one or two inches on him, at least. “Are you two Amish?”
The wife and husband were both at loss for a minute before Dave answered. “No!”
“Why would you think…?” Marisa started to ask.
Victor waved a hand, speaking directly to her. “Your skin, honey. Gorgeous. No blemishes, no squint lines, and no smudges that say you’re using any four-step system to keep your skin looking retro. Now that one…” He motioned toward the very tall woman being escorted into the dining room by a shorter man, carrying a photography bag over his shoulder. “That’s Ash. She’s a model. And he’s her personal Ken doll…I mean, photographer.”
Ian smiled, not only at Victor but also at the young couple as they listened in wide-eyed wonder to everything he was saying.
“She’s been using this amino acid antioxidant exfoliator for two weeks now. She even told me the brand.” He nudged Marisa. “Babe, even if I could afford it, I would never do that to my skin.”
He motioned for Marisa to touch the back of his hand. She complied, to the obvious horror of her husband.
“Silky soft, isn’t it? Strictly low fat moisture lotion, street brand. I buy the stuff for about twenty dollars a tube.”
“Well, looks like everybody is sitting down for dinner,” Dave said, taking his wife by the arm. “And look, they’ve set a table for two for us by the window.”
“Lucky you.” Victor said as they moved off. He scanned the passing people for his next victim.
Ian turned to Brian and nodded toward the model and her boyfriend, who were just being seated in the porch dining area. “She’s got ‘buzz off’ stamped all over her. So how did Victor here get a chance to talk to her?”
“Girl talk,” Victor responded. “We ran into each other in the hallway upstairs. She liked my belt.”
He jutted his hip out so Ian could see the silver Native American decorative work and the turquoise gemstones. Ian tried to look appropriately admiring.
“I told her how much I liked the ads she was doing,” the shorter man continued. “But I told her she absolutely had to cut back on the dark lip liner. The natural fullness of her lips with that foxy-red color Bliss has out this season would complement her brunette complexion much, much better.”
“Of course,” Ian said, shaking his head. “Why didn’t I think of that approach?”
“It’s a gift.”
“And she didn’t scratch your eyes out?”
“Christ, no!” Victor smiled. “They both live in Manhattan. She just finished a big shoot in Florida. She and Ken doll are taking a couple of weeks off before the next job. Anything else you wanted me to find out for you, honey?”
“No. Thanks.” Ian drank some of his beer and studied Victor with new interest. Obviously strong and very agile. He was good looking with a polished edge. Urbane and very astute.
“Oh my gawd!” Victor said, gesturing toward the porch. Ken had taken a camera out of his shoulder bag. He snapped a half dozen shots of Ash—who looked incredibly bored—in rapid succession. Moving around the room, he managed to get everyone in the dining area in one shot or another.
“Some people just can’t leave their work at home,” Brian said with a shake of his head.
The family of four passed before them on their way to the dining room. Ian already knew their last name was Stern, and the boys were Craig and Ryan, fourteen and twelve years old. He had not yet met Mr. Stern, but his wife, Rachel Stern, had much the same coloring and build as Kelly. The eyes, set the two women apart. Kelly’s eyes were more beautiful than any
thing Ian had seen in years.
“Speaking of work, did I mention my boss, Ellie Littlefield?’ Vic asked, moving between Ian and Brian and nodding to the parents as they went by.
“You mentioned her name,” Ian answered.
“Did I tell you she’s married to a hunk?”
“No.” Glancing into the dining room, Ian watched a brief exchange between Mrs. Stern and the model. Their chairs were back to back, but there was something about the way the two women spoke, or acted, that gave Ian the impression that they might know each other.
“His name is Nate Murtaugh,” Victor announced. “Do you know him?”
“Who?”
“Nate Murtaugh, Ellie’s husband.”
“No, should I?” Ian asked.
“He was an FBI agent.”
Ian shot a curious look at Victor before shaking his head.
Brian broke in. “Never mind him. Vic is into that ‘degrees of separation’ thing. He thinks everybody is related or knows each other or knows someone who knows someone else.”
“I know for a fact that it’s true,” Victor said. “My mother was at the Vatican last year and had an audience with the Pope. Think about it. What head of state hasn’t he met? None. And what big pop star hasn’t met a head of state? I’m only that many degrees of separation from Madonna. And that’s only going through my mother. Think of Ellie and Nate and the people they know.”
“He has a point,” Ian said to Brian, but the other man rolled his eyes.
Everyone else was seated in the dining room. Ian’s gaze went from a couple of empty tables to a guest sitting alone at the far end of the room.
“Nice talking to you guys,” he said, walking away.
Ian had seen the man arrive. In his fifties, traveling alone, he hadn’t stopped to order a drink before going into the dining room. He didn’t fit in with the other guests.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
The man looked meaningfully at the two empty tables on either side of him, before looking up at Ian. “I guess…not.”
