She obviously couldn’t handle the past tense yet. And I understood that. There was a long time when I spoke of Robert as if he were still here, too.
“And my beautiful new ring.” She held out her hand and sighed sadly. “He just gave me this.”
“I know,” I said helplessly.
BJ spilled again on her blouse. “Gregorio was going to pull me out of the lifestyle I had grown accustomed to and give me money to do things like pay for rooms at nice places like this. I mean, I’m just a good, ol’ girl from Montana. You talked to Kevin. You can see the kind of redneck life I left.” She shook her head, and her words were slurred. “I knew no good could come from his ex-wife being here.”
Surprised, I said, “Calabria’s ex-wife?”
“Yeah. She’s got power of attorney over his estate. And she’s staying right here at your very dangerous Who-Dun-Him Inn.” BJ took another sip and slammed the bottle down on the table.
I winced at both the reference and the sharp clink of the bottle. “Who?”
“You really don’t know? Oh, that’s choice.” BJ’s face hardened. “The witch who crashed the party.”
I lifted an eyebrow. A lot of people crashed this particular party, but only one female. “Martha?”
“That’s the one.” BJ spilled more liquid onto her shirt. “The old slut.”
Chapter Twelve
I was relieved when Garrett knocked on the door to say DeWayne was ready for BJ. She could hardly walk, so she wouldn’t be able to answer much of anything. The young woman leaned heavily on Garrett, who was surprisingly gentle with her.
I followed them downstairs. At the bottom, they went straight ahead to the parlor, and I turned left.
I found Paul in the kitchen, Liz beside him. I sat on his other side, as if he were a book between matching bookends. “How’s the investigation?”
“That sounds so official,” Paul said, apparently still amazed at being called in to handle a murder. “Besides, you know I’m not supposed to tell you anything.”
“Oh, come on, the murder happened right here, my son could still be in danger, and you’re my brother. Spill the beans.”
“You know there has never been a homicide in Silver City except for that mining dispute back in the 1800s? And in all of Summit County, there was only one last year, down in Park City.” He took a deep breath. I could tell he was disturbed. “I’ve sent for Dr. Ray to ask if he can determine the cause of death.”
I looked at him strangely. “Cause of death? Did you see the size of the lava rock he got bashed with? And the blood?”
“Well, Dr. Butler, please do tell us more.” Liz waved her hand in the air. “I don’t think you know everything about murders.”
I shrugged. “Only what I read in mysteries.”
“Then you should know,” Liz said, “that nothing is ever as it seems.”
Paul nodded. “The medical examiner is on his way up here, along with the Summit County forensics team. But with this storm, it might be hours before they arrive.”
I stared at him. “How do you know? The phones are out.”
“I’ve set up a police radio in your office. I’ll show you how to use it. And the sheriff’s office will send up a satellite phone or two.”
“When will they take the body out of my carriage house?”
Paul wrinkled up his mouth. “The body will stay here until tomorrow sometime.”
“Yuck.” Liz spoke for me. “We have to sleep with a dead body.”
I shivered. “You make everything sound so gross, Liz.”
A ghost of a smile played on Paul’s lips. “Liz likes to sound naughty. She always has. Remember when you were five—”
Zach stuck his head in the doorway. “Mom, can I play the new video game?”
“No way,” I said. “And what are you doing up here alone?”
Paul told Liz, “Later,” and turned to my son. “Zach, you need to stay with someone all the time until the investigation is over. Okay? Use the Buddy System, like when we go swimming. It’s very important.”
“I’ll go with him.” Liz stood, and hand in hand, the buddies took off. Liz told him he needed to brush his teeth and then she’d read him a story.
Paul said, “DeWayne and I will need beds. We’ll take turns on guard tonight until the sheriffs arrive.”
I loved having the big, strong police chief and his great, big strong officer, each with a gun, here in case anyone tried anything else. Grandma and her gun didn’t inspire nearly as much confidence.
“You should have heard your guests whine when I asked them to stay put for awhile. They all said they have very important deadlines to meet.”
“I bet they do. They’re busy writers.”
“Regardless, until the detectives arrive, nobody leaves. As if they could leave in this storm, anyway.”
“They were all planning to stay until Sunday afternoon. They’ll be all right.”
“The deputies will be bringing all sorts of people up with them, Vicki. You need to be prepared. The blood spatter expert, the—”
”Blood spatter expert? Oh, please, stop there. I don’t want to hear anymore of this official stuff.”
The door pushed open and Dr. Ray entered.
“Doctor. Thank you for coming.” Paul motioned to the table. “Have a seat. Please.”
The elderly man sat in a regal manner. That was the only word I could use to describe him. Slim and regal. Okay, two words.
Paul— sandy hair, freckles, stocky and strong— twirled his chair around, sitting on it backwards. The opposite of regal. “I’d like to ask you about what you found when you were trying to resuscitate the victim. Or if you think the blow to the head killed him. I ask because our forensics people won’t be here until later, but it might help with our investigation.”
The older man looked grim. “Gregorio was indeed struck with a blunt object to the head and that wound caused much bleeding.”
That’s what I saw, too. I nodded. So did Paul.
“But,” Dr. Ray continued, “I do not believe that was the cause of death.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”
“I ripped the shirt open because the buttons could have bruised Gregorio’s chest during resuscitation efforts. There was so much blood, I did not realize immediately there was another wound. After we gave up trying to revive him, I lifted the flap of his open shirt to close it, and I saw something.”
The men exchanged looks, and Dr. Ray continued. “Gregorio was stabbed in the heart. The head wound bled more, as head wounds do, and that caused some confusion, especially when the knife wound could not be seen.”
Paul narrowed his eyes. “A knife wound?”
Kevin had taken his knife! That had to be the murder weapon.
Dr. Ray nodded. “Perhaps a letter opener or some other slim, sharp object. I really couldn’t say from the brief look I got. Your forensics department will be able to provide more specific details.”
“Very interesting.” Paul sat without speaking for a long moment. “Mr. Harmon was helping you with the resuscitation. Did he notice this, also? Or did you comment on it to him?”
Dr. Ray pondered the questions. “I don’t believe so. He was overcome with shock and I had to help him up. It was after he went into the bathroom to wash his hands that I closed Gregorio’s shirt.”
Paul nodded. “I’ll speak with Mr. Harmon and ask what he saw. But the obvious cause of death we shall assume to be the blow to the head?”
Dr. Ray leaned forward and nodded. “I believe so.”
Paul nodded again. “So far, only the three of us,” he looked at Dr. Ray and me, “know Mr. Calabria had a chest wound. The others will assume, as we did at first, that he died from the head wound. Only the three of us know. And the murderer.”
He paused again, obviously thinking things through. “Right. Let’s keep this under our hats. Never know if someone might slip up. I mean, if anyone besides us mentions the stab wound, or a knife b
eing the murder weapon, that could be a clue.”
“My lips are sealed,” I said.
“You have my word of honor, sir.”
Like I said— regal.
“Good. Now,” Paul stood, “I have work to do.”
Dr. Ray smiled at me, but it was a grim smile. “It’s been a long time since I had to work on a dead body. Especially someone who was also a good friend.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Dr. Ray sighed. “This has been a long day.” Then he brightened. “I wonder if Mrs. Ross is still up.”
“She might well be. I thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful.” Paul stood and offered a handshake. “I’m going to request that everyone go to their rooms now. I recommend you lock your doors.”
Dr. Ray, fatigue showing in his eyes, shook hands with Paul.
After the doctor left, Paul told me, “Lock the doors to the basement. Don’t let anyone in except for DeWayne and me.”
A chill descended over me. “Do you really think the murderer is still inside the Inn?”
“Possibly. Or Kevin could be lurking around outside, trying to get in. Either way, I’m not taking any chances, and I don’t want anyone else to either.”
I followed Paul out of the kitchen, missing Robert terribly. What I wouldn’t have given to feel his strong arms around me tonight and have him kiss away my fears.
There was a knock on the door of the Inn.
I peeked through the stained glass window, ready to yell out if it was Kevin.
With relief, I recognized my visitors.
If I couldn’t have Robert, I’d settle for the cavalry.
* * *
Two Summit County sheriffs stood on my porch under the overhang, wearing big winter parkas, dark blue with patches on the shoulders. Along with our snowmobiles from earlier, the two new machines made my driveway look like a parking lot for a Hell’s Angels winter convention. And I was rambling again.
The older deputy, who could have passed for a high school student, introduced himself as Patrol Sergeant Mansfield and his partner, Deputy Quinn. Quinn looked not much older than Zach. Since when did they allow teenagers into the department? Apparently, they were desperate for someone to work the graveyard shifts.
Patrol Sergeant Mansfield said, “Ma’am—”
Ma’am? Pardon me? Just how old did he think I was?
He continued. “We have probable cause and we’ve obtained a telephonic search warrant for the carriage house, which we are executing at this time.”
“All right,” I said. Did he expect an argument from me? Not hardly. “Come on in.”
They stepped inside and carefully wiped off their snow boots. Mansfield looked at me without a hint of a smile. In fact, he looked nervous. Was this his first murder? Must be, if he was new in the department and there’d only been one last year.
I knew how he felt. It was my first murder, too, and it definitely made me nervous.
“We will be seeking a search warrant for the main building. Unless you give us permission to search.”
I looked at Mansfield, confused. “The main building? You mean the one we’re standing in?”
Mansfield nodded.
Quinn smiled at me, apparently the charmer of the pair. “We’ll need to search it.”
“The Silver City police already did.”
“We’d like to check again, if you don’t mind. Would you be willing to sign a consent form?”
“Are you kidding? We don’t know where the murderer is and I’ll feel a lot safer with you here. Bring on the consent form.”
Quinn pulled one out and I signed it.
“Thanks. Now we’ll need to clear the building of suspects.”
I must have looked confused again, for Quinn clarified. “We want to make sure no one is here who shouldn’t be. Especially any suspects in the homicide.”
“Great,” I said. “Would you like to talk with my brother?”
Now they looked confused.
“Paul Ross. He’s the police chief of Silver City. He and his officer, DeWayne Smith, are both here.”
Mansfield nodded. “We want to speak with everyone else here at the Inn, as well.”
“Officer Smith already did.”
Finally, Mansfield smiled gently. “We understand, but we still need to do it again. We have jurisdiction. We want to take statements, and identify everyone here. We will clear the building and ensure that our officers and your guests are safe.”
They may have looked like the Hardy Boys, but they talked like seasoned cops— er, deputies.
Either way, it was time to get my guests back downstairs to answer more questions.
* * *
Hours later, I rolled over in bed, trying not to wake Liz, who was sleeping in my queen-size bed with me. I’d listened to this old mansion’s creaking, groaning and settling sounds most of my life, but they never sounded ominous until tonight.
I glanced over at my bedside clock. 11:50 p.m. After the deputies asked their questions, I had to find a nightgown for BJ to wear, as her luggage was instantly sealed as evidence and totally off limits. She said she’d wear the same outfit tomorrow, but I’d seen the blood stains. I found something that I fit into a long time ago, when I was at my slimmest, twenty pounds ago.
Oh, and I put Clark Harmon in the Max McKnight room. Finally. That was the bright spot of a very dark evening. He loved it.
I climbed into bed, exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. I checked on Zach several times, knowing he was safe, but still having to make sure.
I sighed and shifted again. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from dancing around in my brain. Who murdered Gregorio? I believed it was Kevin, but where was he? Were the rest of us in danger?
I wanted to believe the murderer was Kevin and he was far from here, but my brother, whose judgment I trusted, said the murderer could still be here, at the Inn. But I thought it had to be Kevin.
Would my business be ruined? Could we keep this out of the media? Was Jennifer in labor?
I knew from listening to my sister, Georgia, a labor and delivery nurse, that heavy storms encouraged labor. Something about the low pressure. I’d hate it if Paul had to miss the birth of his new, little baby boy because of being here with me.
The floorboards creaked in the kitchen. The ceiling above me groaned in the parlor. I sighed again. Lying here listening was driving me crazy. I could hear two male voices and, since I knew the Hardy Boy deputies were still in the carriage house securing the crime scene, Paul and DeWayne must have still been up.
I needed someone else’s voice in my head besides my own.
“Oh, my gosh, Vicki,” Liz whispered, making me jump. “Just get up.”
“I’m going to.” I sat up and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, sliding my feet into the gorilla-face slippers Zach gave me for my last birthday.
I hefted the baseball bat that lent me false courage most of the evening.
“You’re as scary as Grandma.” She giggled as she climbed out of bed. “I’m going with you. No telling what trouble you’ll run into in the dark by yourself.”
I stepped out of my bedroom and listened to the sounds. Grandma was snoring lightly in the guest room. I knew from experience that it would take something really noisy to wake her. Something with the same decibel level as her gun going off, for example. Once asleep, it didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day or night, she didn’t wake up until her body was ready to wake up.
I checked on Zach again, who looked like an angel as he slept. I closed his door.
Stephanie was bunked on the sofa bed and I could see she still had the TV on, watching an inane infomercial. When she caught sight of Liz and me, she jumped. “Darn it, you two, if you go around sneaking up on people, your grandma’s gonna shoot you.”
“Like she’d wake up,” Liz said.
“We’re going upstairs,” I said. “Want to join us?”
Stephanie clicked off the TV and pulled a robe over her nightgown. “What
the heck? I can’t sleep anyway.”
In her sweats, Liz grabbed the flashlight I left on the end table and took the lead up the stairs. I followed with the baseball bat. Stephanie played caboose, trusting to her wits alone, I guess.
Liz said, “Don’t you hate those horror shows where the heroine is so stupid, she leaves the safety of her locked room and goes exploring?”
“Shut up!” I said.
“I remember,” Stephanie said, “when I’d spend the night with you guys and your dad would finally come in and yell at us: ‘Will you girls be quiet?’”
“Yeah, I wish Dad was here tonight,” I said, “to make sure there were no monsters under the bed. Or anywhere else.”
Stephanie nodded. “Yeah. Who knew there’d ever be a murder at the Ross Mansion?”
“You’ve really got to screen your guests better, Vicki.” Liz unlocked the door at the top of the stairs.
We followed her out. I made sure the door was locked behind us before we moved across the foyer toward the familiar voices.
There was one light on in the office, which I always left on at night for the guests. Tonight, it wasn’t enough. Hearing a sudden sound, I flipped the main light switch and squinted my eyes against the brightness. There was nothing there. Now I was starting to imagine things.
Liz said, “Come on,” and pushed into the kitchen.
Stephanie and I followed quickly.
I couldn’t believe how relieved I was at the sight of DeWayne and Paul, sitting at the table, knocking off the rest of the Death by Chocolate. And talking, just like old times.
DeWayne’s face lit up when he caught sight of Liz, just like when we were in high school. But that was eight years ago, before they broke up after graduation, and way before Liz’s marriage to Gene three years ago.
DeWayne was one of the few people who could tell Liz and me apart when we were kids. Most of our siblings and our mother could tell. And sometimes, Grandma. I tricked DeWayne into kissing me once, just for fun, but he figured it out right away. I always wondered whether I was that much better or that much worse than Liz to make him guess so easily.
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