Inside Out: A Heather's Forge Cozy Mystery, Book 5

by N. L. Cameron

  He leaned sideways and kissed me once. “How was that? Does that meet your standard?”

  “Hmm,” I mused. “I’m not sure. You might have to do it again so I can gauge whether you did it right.”

  He gathered me in his arms and pulled me against his sturdy frame. He let his lips linger on my mouth in delectable kisses. I could kiss him all night long and never get tired of it.

  I moved back to my own seat and smoothed invisible wrinkles out of my clothes. “Getting better. You need more practice, though.”

  He chuckled low and put the truck in gear. “Okay. I could deal with that.”

  He drove back to the inn and parked in the parking lot before he made his next move. Every time he put his arms around me and kissed me in slow, delicious bliss, it got better. Those kisses filled me with oozy comfort until I melted all over.

  After a long kissing session in the dark cab of his truck, he shut off the motor and got out. He walked me to the inn door, and we kissed for another long time on the porch. In the end, he pushed me toward the door. “Good night. We can practice again another time.”

  “See that you do,” I replied. “See that you practice a lot—as much as you can. I’ll be checking on your progress.”

  He vanished, chuckling, in the direction of the barn.

  Chapter 7

  I went into my apartment and got my map sketches of the tunnels under the town, along with a flashlight. I was already exhausted. I would probably live to regret going back to the tunnels now, but I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to see what was going on down there.

  I followed my map to what I supposed must be near the center of town. Doors clustered all over the place. I tried a few of them. Not even my skeleton key would open them.

  I came to a large metal door I figured must belong to the supermarket. I tried it, but nothing would budge it. For all I knew, the lock and the hinges could have been frozen in place by decades of rust.

  I gave up and started to turn away when I noticed footprints leading away from the door. Someone had definitely been down here recently. I shivered. Who could be down here? What if it was a killer? I didn’t want to meet anybody like that down here.

  I headed back the way I came. I tried several doors, but I didn’t find one that opened. I got halfway down the passage when I stopped. If that door opened into the supermarket, maybe another door opened into the police station. Maybe that’s how Freddy’s killer got in without Rufus Leonard noticing him. Anything was possible.

  If I could only get this map of mine accurate enough, I could find a door that led to the police station. If I found footprints leading into it, that would confirm my suspicion.

  Who in this town knew about the tunnels? Someone would have to know a lot about them to find their way around. In the short time I’d been coming down here and making a thorough study of them, I hadn’t learned enough to tell one door from the next.

  I studied all the doors in that passage and tried several. I didn’t see one that looked like it was used recently. Not even knowing which door led to the supermarket —or thinking I knew—helped me find the police station.

  I headed back to the inn. Once back in my apartment, I spent a few more hours organizing all my notes and perfecting my map. One of these days… In the end, I collapsed from exhaustion and fell asleep.

  My alarm woke me up at six o’clock the next morning like it usually did. I did my usual work at the front desk and took a few reservations. I glanced over my notes for the scavenger hunt, but in the middle of planning it, Camille came out of the kitchen. “Would you please run into town for me and grab a few apples from the supermarket? We just ran out, and I need them for a pie.”

  “Sure thing. I wanted to go to the supermarket anyway.”

  I grabbed my handbag and hit the road. I wanted to take a look around the supermarket for any signs of a hidden door, even though I thought for sure it wouldn’t be hidden in plain view. It would be in the back storeroom or somewhere away from customers.

  Still, it was worth a look. Running the inn with our own food suppliers, I didn’t spend much time in there. Maybe I should take Eliza with me. She would know the place better than I would, and a fresh set of eyes always helped in cases like this.

  I parked in front of Potters’ Hardware store and found Eliza in her hairdressing salon behind her parents’ house. She put down her magazine when I walked in. “Here for a touch-up of that hair?”

  “No!” I exclaimed. “I want you to come to the supermarket with me.”

  She frowned. “Can’t you manage that on your own?”

  “I don’t want to do any shopping, silly. I want to check something out, and I need a second pair of eyes.”

  “Is it for the Freddy Wright murder case?”

  “It might be,” I replied. “Then again, it might not be. I can’t be sure, and anyway, I don’t know if we’ll find anything.”

  She made for the door. “Sounds great. What are we looking for?”

  “Anything out of the ordinary,” I told her. “By the way, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary at your parents’ house or at the hardware store? Maybe something like a hidden door or something like that?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

  “Hmm. Okay, well, you let me know if you spot anything.”

  We walked out into the morning and crossed the green to the supermarket. We wandered the aisles, looking at nothing in particular.

  Eliza picked up a box of toothpicks. “I was thinking about getting some of these to clean out my electric razor.”

  “Will you pay attention?” I snapped. “We’re supposed to be looking for—”

  “I know,” she replied. “You said we’re supposed to be looking for anything out of the ordinary, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. It’s just the same old supermarket.”

  I took one last desperate look around, but she was right. There was nothing to see here. I’d known it would be like this, but I still fooled myself that I would see a mysterious door right out in plain view. I should have known better.

  I got the apples, and Eliza paid for the toothpicks. I stood on the sidewalk outside and sighed. “I guess there’s nothing to do but get back to the inn.”

  “You could hang out with me all day,” Eliza suggested.

  “I have to take these apples back to Camille, and besides, I have other stuff to do. I’m just procrastinating right now.”

  “Isn’t there any trouble we could get into before you have to leave?” Eliza asked.

  “I’m afraid not, sweetheart. It looks like just another boring day in the life. See ya later.”

  We strolled back across the green. Halfway back to my car, I spotted a tall man rummaging around in the garbage can by the bandstand. I stopped in my tracks and whispered into Eliza’s ear. “Look, Eliza. Who is that?”

  “That’s Artie Gordon. He lives in a shack on the outskirts of town. Keep away from him. He’s a troublemaker.”

  She walked away, but I couldn’t help standing there and watching. He went from one trash can to another and pawed through the garbage.

  Eliza came back to my side. “Are you coming, Allie?”

  “Just a little longer,” I murmured.

  “I don’t know why you want to watch him go through the town’s garbage. I always knew Artie Gordon was no good. I didn’t think he could sink that low.”

  “I think I recognize him from somewhere, but I can’t think where.”

  She waited a few more minutes. “I’m going back to the salon. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I didn’t turn around. “See ya later.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the tall man moving around the green in a fever of activity. He dug deep into each trashcan. When he finished, he put all the garbage back in and left everything neat the way he found it. He was definitely looking for something.

  My blood ran cold when he stopped at the garbage can in front of
the sheriff’s station. He took off the lid and went through all the garbage. After he finished, he put everything back and replaced the lid. He glanced all around the green and muttered under his breath.

  I might be the only person in town who would understand what he was doing. I found that statue of Anubis in the trashcan outside the sheriff’s station. He must have been looking for it. What did he have to do with the museum robbery?

  Now that he stood up straight and looked in my direction, I definitely got the impression I’d seen him before, but I couldn’t place him. I knew almost everyone in Heather’s Forge on sight, and I’d never seen that guy before.

  Most people came out to the inn for my parties and events. Most people in town wouldn’t miss them for the world, but I’d never laid eyes on him. Who was he? I would have to do some digging to find out.

  Chapter 8

  I stopped by the sheriff’s station to check in with Sheriff Mills. Maybe he could tell me something about Artie Gordon. I found the sheriff on the phone. “Well, get down here as soon as you can. This is an emergency. I can’t lock anybody up if the doors don’t lock, now can I?”

  He slammed down the phone and smacked his lips in annoyance. “This is the worst disaster of my career. All these years, I’ve been locking people in those cells when the whole town was laughing at me behind my back that the doors don’t even lock. Now I can’t even get a locksmith to come out to fix them.”

  “It’s a pretty bad situation,” I agreed. “Do you mind if I have a look at the cells, just one more time? I want to see again how they got the doors open.”

  I didn’t tell him I wanted to check to see if there was any way someone could get in through the tunnels. That was the last thing Sheriff Mills needed to think about right now.

  “I can’t let you do that,” he told me. “There must be certain people around town who know about this. I’ve gotta be extra careful.”

  “You let me see the cells before,” I pointed out. “Just once more can’t hurt.”

  “Can’t do that,” he replied. “I’ve got Lincoln in the cells right now after last night’s bender, and he can walk out any time he wants. It’s a travesty of justice.”

  In answer to his words, Lincoln staggered down the hall from the cells. He leaned one hand against the door jamb, spat on the floor, and ran his wrist across his mouth. “You got that right.”

  “What are you doing out here?” Sheriff Mills thundered. “You’re supposed to be locked up.”

  “I am,” Lincoln drawled.

  Sheriff Mills spun him around and shoved him down the hall. “Get back in there. I’ve got a good mind to hold you on suspicion of murder after the way you keep breaking out of your cell. Get back in there before you regret it.”

  Sheriff Mills marched him down the hall, back into his cell, and slammed the door. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice me following along behind. Lincoln sprawled on the bed. “Give me a break, Sheriff. I didn’t kill that kid. I could have, but I didn’t, and I can prove it.”

  “How?” Sheriff Mills asked.

  “I wasn’t in the cell when he died,” Lincoln replied. “I wasn’t even in the jail.”

  “Yes, you were,” Sheriff Mills shot back. “I put you in there myself.”

  “I walked out,” Lincoln said. “I jiggled the lock, and I went to my girlfriend’s house. She can confirm I was there, and so can a bunch of other people who saw me there. They were having a rager of a party, and I didn’t want to miss out.”

  Sheriff Mills frowned. “What hours were you there when you should have been here?”

  “I dunno. Maybe between about eight PM and five AM. Then I came back here to sleep it off.”

  Sheriff Mills threw up his hands and stormed past me to his office. He crashed into his chair and buried his face in his arms folded on the desk. “I quit.”

  “I guess this eliminates Lincoln as a suspect in Freddy’s death,” I remarked.

  Just then, Deputy Leonard entered the station from the parking lot. Sheriff Mills rocketed out of his chair. “You! I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

  Rufus started back in shock. His hand flew to his heart. “Me?”

  “Yes, you!” Sheriff Mills pointed at him. “My prisoners are walking in and out of these cells like they aren’t even there. You must have known about this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know anything. I swear it, Sheriff.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Sheriff Mills barked. “You must have known. You couldn’t be so dim as to not notice prisoners getting locked into the cells, moseying out to parties in the middle of the night, and letting themselves back in before morning. No way could a deputy be that incompetent. You must have known. You must have kept it from me. Admit it.”

  Deputy Leonard’s lip quivered. “I didn’t know anything about it. Honest, I didn’t, Sheriff. You know I would have told you if I knew.”

  “It was your job to guard Lincoln and make sure he never left the cells,” Sheriff Mills went on. “Where were you, all these times he’s been coming and going as he pleased? What’s the point of locking him in a drunk tank if he’s not locked up?”

  Deputy Leonard glanced at me and back at the sheriff. “Sheriff, I….”

  Sheriff Mills threw himself back into his chair. “Aw, what’s the use? I’m a laughing stock. I might as well resign.”

  “Don’t do that, Sheriff,” I told him. “You’re not a laughing stock. I’d say hardly anybody knows about this. This is an old jail, and you couldn’t know about this. Now you do. You’ll get the locks fixed, and life will go on as before. The important thing is you’re doing what you can about it now that you know.”

  My words didn’t cheer him up at all. “I’ll never live this down, and now Freddy is dead because of it.”

  Before I could reply, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Miss Garrett,” a stout male voice replied. “It’s Tom Potter here at the hardware store.”

  “Oh, good morning, Tom. What can I do for you?”

  “You can come down here and pick up that cat of yours. She’s been here all morning. She’s wandering the aisles like she’s looking for something to buy.” He laughed on the other end of the line.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Tom. I’ll be right there. I’m sorry she caused you any trouble.”

  “Oh, she’s not trouble,” he replied. “In fact, it’s kinda comforting having a cat around the store. It’s just… well, it’s just sort of… out of the ordinary, you know.”

  “No problem at all, Tom. I’m on my way over right now.”

  I hurried out of the station and raced over to the hardware store. Sure enough, there was good old Pixie. She meowed up at me from the floor between the chainsaws and the weed-eaters.

  I gathered the cat into my arms. “We really need to find a way to lock you up, you know that?”

  Sheila Potter came over from the front counter. “Oh, don’t take her away. She’s a comfort to the customers. I think she encourages them to buy. They see her shopping, so they shop more themselves.”

  I laughed. “That’s pretty funny, but Tom already asked me to take her away. She really shouldn’t be wandering the streets at large like this. I’ll take her home, and I’ll have to figure out a way to cat-proof the inn so she doesn’t get into so much trouble.”

  Sheila scratched Pixie under the chin. “She’s a wonderful cat. We would get a cat for the store, but the Health and Safety officers wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “That must be why Tom wants her to go home.”

  Sheila peered into my eyes. “I just want you to know, Miss Garrett, that Tom and I knew all along about Smitty stealing from the store. He’s been doing it for years.”

  “Really?” I asked. “I didn’t know anything about that. We found out about him passing copies of keys to Freddy Wright to help him steal things, but I don’t think anybody knows about your son stealing from the store. I’m certain Sheriff
Mills doesn’t know about it.”

  “Well, he did steal from the store,” Sheila replied. “In fact, he did it a lot. Tom and I didn’t know what to do, so we never did anything. I realize now we should have done something. We should have acted the first time we found out about it, but it just kept going on and on. I’m sorry for that now, but I know Smitty didn’t kill anybody.”

  “I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about,” I told her. “No one suspects Smitty of killing Freddy. They were friends and accomplices. I don’t see any reason to suspect him.”

  Sheila seized my arm. “Do you really mean it? Oh, thank you so much. I was so worried he would get accused of murder on top of everything else.”

  “I’m certain you don’t have anything to worry about. There are plenty of other people who had a lot more opportunity to kill Freddy. There’s Laura Lane. She was in the next cell when Freddy was killed, and she knew about… Well, she had the opportunity, even if she didn’t have a motive.”

  “I remember Laura talking about Freddy in the store one time last year,” Sheila told me. “She said she thought he stole something from her house. She kept going on and on about a valuable bracelet he stole from her. It was a gift from her father, and she never got it back.”

  I frowned. “That’s strange. That means Laura really did have a reason not to like Freddy. I wonder if Sheriff Mills knows about that. I’m sure Laura never mentioned it.”

  Sheila squeezed my arm. “Thank you so much for saying that about Smitty. You don’t know how much that puts my mind at rest.”

  She went back to the counter, and I took Pixie to my car, but the conversation didn’t put my mind at rest. In fact, it raised more questions. So, Laura had a problem with Freddy after all, and she also knew how to open the cell doors. Lincoln didn’t kill Freddy and neither did Smitty, but maybe Laura did.

  I slammed my car door to shut Pixie into the seat. She pounced on at the door and dragged her soft paw over the window. She opened her mouth in mute meows of protest.

  I had to admit a certain perverse enjoyment watching her ineffectual efforts to get out. I spent entirely too much time tracking that cat down and corralling her wild antics. She could stew in the car for a while. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about her getting up to any more mischief in there.