by Lynn Bohart
I stretched my shoulders, feeling the strain of the past few days catch up to me. I’d miss the dogs, but decided that Sybil was right; I needed some good old-fashioned rest. And who knew what tomorrow would bring.
“Thanks. I’ll pick them up tomorrow, though. I’ll get them on my way back from the shelter.”
She grinned. “That would be fine. Now you take care and get some rest,” she said, turning to go. “I know most of your guests have left,” she said over her shoulder. “So it should be pretty quiet over here. I suppose having a murderer lurking about can’t be good for business.”
Like so many of Sybil’s comments, that little barb was meant to wound me—if only a little. While I mostly found Sybil annoying, she had a bit of a mean streak that I really didn’t like. I thanked her, said goodbye and closed and locked the door. When I turned around, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Libby was standing right behind me.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Um…that’s okay,” I said, my hand to my chest. “I didn’t hear you.”
She was beginning to remind me too much of the ghosts that inhabited the place.
The sound of a door closing echoed down the stairs and then Ms. Jenkins, my one remaining guest, appeared at the head of the stairs. She was a petite woman in her thirties, with shoulder-length black hair, a decent figure, and dark brown eyes accented with dramatic eye makeup.
“Excuse me,” she said to both of us, as she descended the stairs. “But I don’t seem to have gotten any clean towels today.”
She nodded and raised an eyebrow as if she was annoyed by this oversight.
“I’ll take care of it,” Libby said.
Libby started for the laundry just as the front doorbell rang. We all stopped. I left the box on the counter and crossed the foyer to open the door. I found a man standing under the porch light, wearing dark pants and a black bomber jacket. He had a small rolling suitcase by his side. What gave me a start was his shocking white hair, which hung just below his ears, and a set of piercing blue eyes off set off by a lack of eyebrows.
“I…uh, was wondering if I could get a room for tonight,” he said.
“Of course,” I said, stepping back to let him in.
“I’m in town visiting my sister, who just had a baby,” he said, closing the door behind him. “But I’m afraid the baby won’t let me sleep. Colic or something like that,” he said with a shrug.
He gave me a full smile, exposing a set of crooked, yet gleaming white teeth. As I studied him briefly, I realized that he actually did have eyebrows. They were just so light that they disappeared against his skin. I wondered if he was an albino.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he said, peering at me through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “We just finished dinner and the baby started up again. I thought I’d better find a place before it got too late. I was heading downtown for a motel when I saw your sign and thought I’d just stop in and ask.” He smiled again.
“No problem. Please, come in,” I said.
I backed up and turned abruptly towards the registration desk, hitting the box with my elbow. It flew off the counter and landed on its side. The small ledger book slid half way out onto the floor.
“Let me get that for you,” the new guest said, moving forward promptly to pick it up.
I beat him to it, almost knocking him over as I bent down.
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing it and pushing the book back inside. “Just a little something for my ex-husband.” I folded the box flaps into place.
“I’ll get the towels,” Libby spoke up, bringing attention back to her.
“Thank you, Libby,” I said as she turned and left for the laundry.
Ms. Jenkins stood there with one hand on the bannister, looking like Marlene Dietrich. She stared at the new guy as if waiting for him to notice her. I stood holding the box watching her and waiting for her to leave. Our new guest stood awkwardly looking back and forth between us.
Count to three.
“Well!” I said, finally breaking the silence. “Let’s get you checked in.”
I crossed behind the counter and put the box on the shelf underneath. As I pulled out the guest book, I glanced over at Ms. Jenkins, who was still regarding the new guest as if he were something she hoped to order off a menu.
“I’ll have Libby bring the towels to your room,” I said to her.
She looked up at me as if just waking from a dream and then took the hint and retreated up the stairs.
“Well, you’re in luck,” I said, opening the book. “We have a room with a private bath for $225 a night, and one that shares a bath for $175.”
“I’ll take the one with a private bath,” he said.
Just then, Ahab let out a loud whistle. His cage sits in a direct line with the reception desk, so he can see people when they come in. We both flinched.
“Sorry,” I said. “That’s Ahab. He gets excited when new people come in.”
“Willkommen, bienvenue, well…come!” he sang in his best Joel Gray imitation.
I chuckled “Just ignore him.” I turned back to the registration book. “Okay, that will be $225.”
“Houston, we have a problem,” Ahab squawked again. “Houston, we have a problem.”
“He’s cute,” the new guest murmured, his eyes narrowed in Ahab’s direction.
He pulled out a money clip, glancing back to Ahab, who by now had shut up. As I watched him peel off the required amount, I couldn’t help but wonder why someone would carry so much cash, especially if they were just visiting family. But then I decided I didn’t really care.
“I just need your name here,” I said, pointing to the space provided on the registration form, “and your license plate number.”
“I’m driving a rental,” he said.
“That’s okay. We can just put that number down.”
“I’ll have to go out and check. Just a minute.”
He went back outside, leaving the front door open. Since it was December, it was already dark outside, but I caught a glimpse of a large, dark truck or SUV in the first car slot. Then he returned with the license number. I explained the meal schedule and glanced at his name.
“Well, Mr.…Brown, we have a nice library,” I said, indicating the room across the entryway. “We have a refrigerator in the breakfast room stocked with sodas and fruit juices. And of course there is always coffee. Breakfast is served between 7:30 and 9:30, although I’m afraid that on the weekends we only serve a continental breakfast. And if you’d like to take a walk in the morning, there’s a lovely trail just north of the beach.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I should only be here the one night. I’m scheduled to go home tomorrow afternoon.”
Libby appeared behind him with the towels. When he turned, she averted her eyes, as if his appearance had startled her. I introduced them, and she nodded politely and offered to take him up to his room.
As they trudged upstairs, my cell phone jingled and I saw that I had a text from Angela. I’d forgotten all about her bringing Lucy over. She was at the side of the house. I grabbed the box and hurried to my apartment to unlock the side door.
Lucy greeted me by sticking her nose in my stomach. Angela was behind her holding a 20-lb bag of dog food. An enormous dog pillow leaned up against her leg.
Lucy was what they called a Harlequin Great Dane, which means she was covered in black and white splotches. Her face was divided almost in half—half black, half white—making her look as if she were wearing a mask.
Since she comes up to my waist, she stuck her big nose into my stomach a second time, clearly asking for some recognition. I reached out and stroked her head.
“Hello, Luce,” I said.
“Hey, Mom, thanks for this,” she said. “Where are the puppies?”
“Sybil has them.”
“Great. You and Lucy can be best buds tonight. You want her bed in your bedroom again?”
“Yes, on the other side of my bed so I don’t kill
myself tripping over her if I have to get up in the middle of the night.”
I took the dog food, while Angela grabbed the dog bed and went down the hallway to the master bedroom. After placing the pillow on the far side of the bed, she came out and put a comforting arm around my shoulders.
“Okay, so, how are you really doing? I heard about the breakin. Losing all those beautiful pieces must have been horrible. Have the police learned anything yet?”
I sighed and patted her hand. We were about the same height, but that’s where the similarities ended. Obviously, no one would ever mistake us as relatives by birth. Besides her Asian heritage, she was a size 2, another dress size I had no acquaintance with. She had beautiful, long straight blue-black hair while mine was short and artificially dyed auburn. She still had perfect eyesight, while I was forced to use reading glasses. And, she had an easy, outgoing, even gregarious personality, while I bordered on being shy. Right now, the warmth of her embrace felt really good.
“No, we’re not even sure how someone got in there. There were no broken windows or doors. And to see Martha’s beautiful table completely destroyed like that, well…it was just heartbreaking. I felt like they’d taken Martha from us all over again.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom. You know, I could stay here for a couple of days instead of going to Phil’s. I could help out a bit. Give you a rest.”
“No, no,” I patted her hand again. “I’ll be fine. It’s just good to see you. Can you stay for a cup of tea?”
“Sure, but you sit. I’ll make it.”
She made the tea, while I grabbed the box with the ledger book off the counter and placed it on the table.
“What’s this?” she said when she placed a steaming mug of tea in front of me.
“It was hidden in a secret drawer in the table Martha sold me,” I said, sitting down and sliding the book to her. “The one that was destroyed. When Martha sold it to me, we arranged to have the table picked up Friday morning. But, of course, she died first. So, if she meant to remove the book before I took the table, she didn’t have time.”
“But maybe she just forgot about it.” Angela sat down, sipping her tea. She opened the ledger. “Do you know for a fact that it belonged to Martha, and not some other member of the family?”
“No. But consider this… Martha died Thursday. Friday night someone was lurking inside her house when we went to pick up the table. Then our workshop and bakery were broken into last night. All the tables that had drawers had been turned over and the drawers pulled out. And all of the bookshelves were swept clean. Even in the office, things were tossed about, as if someone had rummaged through drawers looking for something in particular. But when we found Martha’s table—which by the way was labeled with her name on it—it had been completely demolished. I think someone knew that I’d bought a piece of furniture from Martha, but didn’t know which one it was. So, they came here looking for it, either thinking—or perhaps knowing– that something was hidden inside.”
I stopped, allowing Angela to absorb it all. She sat thoughtfully, tapping her fingers and taking a moment to study the open ledger in front of her.
“What about the gang tag?” she said.
“So, Mr. Wonderful gave you all the news, even though it’s a weekend?”
She shrugged. “He’s the lead detective. And he called me to give me an update.”
“I bet,” I said.
She lifted her eyes to mine. “What about José?”
I slapped both hands on the table. “Why does everyone immediately think of José?”
“Because he’s Hispanic, from Southern California, and in case you haven’t noticed, he has a couple of gang-related tattoos on his arms.”
“He doesn’t have anything to do with this, I’m telling you. Leave him out of this.”
“Okay. But do you have any idea what this book is?” she asked, still scanning the pages.
“No. I was hoping you might.”
She shook her head, sipping more tea. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It seems innocent enough, though.”
“April wants me to give it to the police.”
She looked up at me. She had high cheek bones and wore a thin line of eyeliner that extended beyond the tips of her eyes. Right now those beautiful almond-shaped eyes were clouded in thought.
“She’s right.”
“But it might be nothing, Angela. I already accosted your boyfriend with the pen.” I smiled, but she scowled at me. “I don’t want to be accused of sending the police on a wild goose chase. You saw how they looked at me when they highlighted that incident with the attorney general in Olympia. I think I should figure out what this is first. If it seems important, then by all means, we should turn it over to the police.”
I finally just shut up. I knew the more I tried to talk her into it, the more she’d pull away.
“Here’s the deal, Mom. If you don’t give this to the police and they discover that it really is evidence and you withheld it, they will arrest you.”
I sighed, knowing I didn’t really have a leg to stand on here.
“Okay, I’ll take it down to Detective Franks first thing in the morning. But I’m telling you, it could be some sort of shipping ledger, or just some personal notebook. It might even have belonged to Martha’s husband.”
“Yes, but you need to let the police figure it out, and then you will be off the hook.”
She stood up, taking a final sip of tea. “I have to go. Hey, Luce,” she called out to the big dog, who had already made herself at home on my sofa. “I gotta go, girl.” Lucy stepped off the sofa and ambled over. “You be good,” she said, giving the big dog a kiss on her broad head. “Try not to get in Mom’s way.” She turned to give me a kiss on the cheek, “I’ll call you tomorrow. And do NOT keep that book,” she said, pointing a finger at me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As tired as I was, I had called a meeting for seven o’clock that night to fill the girls in on the day’s events and to find out what progress they’d made on our investigation. The weather report said a storm front was coming in, so I cranked up the gas fireplace. For privacy’s sake, I told everyone we would meet in my apartment. April arrived first, bringing with her freshly sliced banana bread. I couldn’t believe she’d baked after all that had happened that day, but I’d also never known her to be idle. Maybe baking was her form of therapy.
Lucy wandered out from the bedroom just as April placed the plate on the counter in the kitchen. April gave the big dog a pat and a brief smile, but the circles under her eyes gave me concern. Her face was drawn and she seemed to move on autopilot.
“This will all work itself out,” I said, giving April an encouraging hug. “Angela talked me into giving the book to the police. I’m going to take it to Detective Franks tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” she said, nodding. “I’m glad. At least we won’t have to worry about that.”
My back door opened and Rudy came in with a burst of wind and leaves.
“You look like you hit a wind tunnel,” I said.
“It’s really blowing out there,” she said, running a hand over her hair. “What do I smell?”
“Banana bread,” I said, “thanks to April.”
“God, I love coming here for meetings.” She headed straight for the counter. She was dressed in dark green wool pants and a black turtleneck sweater. She threw her wool coat over the back of a counter stool, smoothed down her hair again and lifted a slice off the plate.” I’ve been on the phone all afternoon and haven’t had dinner. Tough to get hold of people on a Sunday.”
The door opened again and Doe came in, her beautiful salt and pepper hair standing straight up. Doe was the tallest among us, at about five-foot ten, and looked elegant even in a pair of jeans and a tapestry jacket.
“My goodness, it’s like a tornado out there,” she said, trying to flatten out her hair.
As tree branches scraped against the building, I took their coats and began to sing qu
ietly, “The wind began to switch, the house to pitch. And suddenly the hinges started to un-hitch…”
I threw a backward glance at Rudy who scowled at me, but I just smiled and disappeared into the bedroom.
“Oh, yummy. I’m starving,” Doe was saying as I came back out. “I only had lunch today.” She reached for a slice of banana bread. “I can’t get the board to budge, by the way. We may be headed for a strike, and I might have to refresh my memory on how to drive those trucks.”
“Would you really do that?” I asked.
“If I had to,” she said, breaking off a piece of the bread. “That’s why Greg taught me in the first place. In the old days, we only had a few drivers, and he made sure every single person on the payroll was licensed to drive a truck. Of course, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve done it,” she rolled her eyes. “But if push came to shove…” She popped a piece of banana bread into her mouth.
Lucy wandered over to where Rudy was sitting on one of the counter stools. The dog was so tall that her head was almost level with the counter. Rudy pushed the plate back.
“Don’t you dare, Luce, or you and I will have words.”
Lucy looked up at her, her eyes pleading for a treat. Rudy only looped her arm over the dog’s neck.
“God, you’re just a big lug of a dog, aren’t you?”
“Careful,” I said with a chuckle. “She doesn’t know she’s a dog.”
“God, but with that face, she could try out for Phantom of the Opera.”
A brief flash of lights swept across the window and a moment later Blair breezed in.
“Whoo,” she said, “I think Katrina just made landfall.”
Her blond hair looked like it had been whipped by an egg beater, but other than that, the spandex was holding firm.
“I smell something wonderful,” she said almost immediately. She moved to the counter and looked like she was going to grab a slice of the sweet bread.
“Yes, sorry, Blair,” April said. “It’s not sugar-free.”
