Paul frowned. “What are you ladies doing running around in the middle of the night?”
“We couldn’t sleep.” Liz took a seat by DeWayne, just like years ago. “And now we want you to share the cake.”
Stephanie took a seat on the other side of Paul and I pulled up another seat next to Liz.
The five of us often sat at this kitchen table many times over the years. My husband, Robert, and Paul’s wife, Jennifer, joined the parties. But DeWayne stopped coming after Liz married Gene.
DeWayne passed a clean plate to Liz, and asked Paul, “Has the ATL been issued yet?”
I asked, “What’s an ATL?”
Paul smiled at us. “Attempt To Locate. Now officials are watching for Kevin and his vehicle. If he’s found, he’ll be brought in as a person of interest in a homicide investigation.”
Homicide. Even the word sounded ominous. Not just a murder, but a homicide. As in homicidal maniac.
Liz shivered. “I can’t eat cake and talk about murder. Change the subject.”
DeWayne didn’t miss a beat. “We were talking about the odds of Paul ever getting invited to sit at the Round Table.”
Stephanie waved a hand dismissively. “Let the Moose Muffin Café go, Paul. It’s never gonna happen.”
I smiled, finally starting to relax just a bit. “Paul is never giving up hope for that. It’s his goal in life.”
Paul frowned again. “Thanks for bringing that up, DeWayne.”
“Hey, my pleasure. Lots of people want to sit there.”
“You’re still young, Paul,” I reassured him as I poured a glass of milk. “Dad was fifty before he got his invitation.”
“Remember that night we sneaked you in…?” Liz began.
“No.” Paul cut her off. “Forget it.”
Stephanie laughed. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“And you had to do it when I was out of town, too.” DeWayne shook his head. “I have still not forgiven you for that.”
“That’s what you get for being quarterback and leaving town for training,” I said with a laugh. “I could have lost my job over the whole thing.”
We reminisced without mentioning the murder or the investigation again. The elephant in the living room, or the kitchen— or the carriage house. And talking like this made me remember all over again how much I enjoyed my family and friends. The horror of the day receded just a bit.
“You would have loved being there, DeWayne.” Liz put her hand on his arm. She repeated the story again as if we hadn’t all heard it multiple times before. But with old friends, that was half the fun, right? “After Vicki closed up that Tuesday night, she let us in. And Paul actually sat at the Round Table. Vicki even served us milkshakes while we were there.”
Even Paul grinned. “And old man Jennings walked up the street and we all hid under the table— with our milkshakes— until he walked past the window.”
“How you ever got to be a lawman is beyond me,” Liz said.
DeWayne put up a hand. “Oh, please, teacher, pick me.”
“Yes, DeWayne?” Stephanie said sweetly.
“I talked him into law. He wanted to be a florist.”
“Now the BS is really piling up.” Despite her words, Liz laughed. DeWayne always could get her to lighten up.
I still wondered why they broke up. Liz said DeWayne wasn’t ready to commit. DeWayne said Liz wanted to experience the world before settling down. I suspected the truth lay somewhere in between. But I always knew Liz took DeWayne for granted, and I didn’t think she saw what a fine man he was. He didn’t make the money she felt a husband ought to provide. Well, she certainly had a husband with enough money now. Gene belonged to one of the most prestigious and wealthy families in the state: the Eklunds. As in the Eklund wing of the hospital and the Eklund Foundation for the Arts.
Not that Liz was all about money. She just was, well, more enticed by it than I, I guess. Gene was nice enough. But I always liked DeWayne better. And all of this reminded me that Liz refused to talk with Gene earlier.
“Hey, did you hear Crystal Maynard is working at the Moose Muffin Café again?” Paul asked. “I saw her there last week.”
“Crystal?” DeWayne concentrated momentarily. “Didn’t she marry that guy from Salt Lake? Alta View’s quarterback?”
Stephanie nodded. “My mom talked with Crystal’s mom and got all the dirt on her divorce and four-year-old daughter. Crystal’s daddy got her hired at the café.”
Paul frowned again. “Yeah. You sit at the Round Table and you can get your kids hired as waitresses.”
“Like Dad got me my job, you mean?” I laughed. “And since Bernie happens to sit at the Round Table and own the café, I guess he can hire his daughter if he wants.”
Paul grinned and reached for the platter.
I shook my head at him. “You’re going to gain weight.”
“Yeah, well, Jennifer happens to like stocky men.”
“That’s a darn good thing,” I said.
“Besides, she can’t complain about my weight right now. She’s big as a barn.”
“Oh, boy, you’d better not let her hear you say that.” Liz waggled a finger at Paul. “You’ll be in such trouble.”
When Paul finished his cake, he stood, took all the plates, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher, then wiped off the counter with a paper towel.
“Looks like Jennifer’s trained you well,” I teased.
“Yup, it’s true. I’m finally housebroken.”
Paul’s radio crackled to life and he went out to the office to grab it. When he came back in, he announced that the cavalry had apparently arrived in the form of one huge Summit County Sheriff’s Department Snowcat and several other regular-sized snowmobiles, delivering deputies and the medical examiner. The entire weight of the investigation didn’t have to fall on Paul and DeWayne and the Bobbsey Twins anymore. Maybe Paul could even get down and stay with his very pregnant wife. I have to admit that, although I felt bad he was away from Jennifer, a selfish part of me was glad my big brother was here.
“What about a coroner?” I asked.
“Other states elect coroners,” DeWayne said. “Here in Utah, we use appointed medical examiners. Same job. More qualifications.”
“I hope they wash their hands before meals,” said Liz.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re gross, Liz.”
“Well, I do.” She grinned.
“How long will they stay?” I wondered aloud.
DeWayne cut one last small wedge of cake and said, “You’ll have deputies here for days, probably. These guys will be relieved by replacements in the morning. Early.”
“Nine or so?”
“You wish.” DeWayne grinned at me. “Six, darlin’.”
I glanced at the clock— three in the morning— and groaned. “I’m going to bed.”
Paul and DeWayne left to handle the official stuff. The other ladies and I stumbled back downstairs.
I heard DeWayne come downstairs about an hour later to check on us. I inflated an air mattress in our family living room for him, and put sheets and blankets on it, on the floor by Zach’s bed.
And, with my brawny friend sleeping nearby, my big brother keeping watch upstairs, and deputies arriving hourly, I was finally able to drop off into a heavy, restless slumber.
Chapter Thirteen
When my alarm went off at six on Saturday morning, my body thought it was a sick joke. After only three hours of sleep, I could barely open my eyes, yet I knew from experience some of my guests— who’d gotten no more sleep than I— would still expect an early breakfast. Ah, the joys of ownership.
When I clicked my bedside lamp to the lowest setting, Liz groaned and rolled over to face me, her eyes squinted shut. It was really weird waking up to my own face. “Why did you ever choose to be an innkeeper? After all those years, you knew how early you’d have to get up. Were you insane?”
Ignoring her, I plodded into the bathroom. It took a long shower to ope
n my eyes. After dressing, I stumbled upstairs to fix breakfast, which I could handle on my own. It’s a good thing I chose something— Belgian waffles, Zach’s favorite— that I could do in my sleep. And I had to admit, the strawberries and whipped cream did sound tempting.
To my surprise, Grandma was already in the kitchen; and, bless her soul, she was cooking. A spatula in her hand, she glanced at me. “You always did like to sleep in, didn’t you?”
“Sleep in? I only got three hours sleep last night.”
Grandma smiled sweetly. “Nicholas and I talked far into the night, as well.”
“Nicholas? You’re on a first-name basis now?”
“Of course.” Grandma popped out a waffle expertly. She obviously checked the menu taped to the large freezer, as she had every morning for the years when she ran the Ross Mansion. “Take these out to the dining room, dear. There are people waiting already.”
I groaned. “How early do these people get up?”
“Murder must whet the appetite.”
It sure didn’t whet mine. I peeked through the one-way mirror. Four people were seated at one of the smaller tables. It did not surprise me to see the regal Dr. Nicholas Ray was an early riser, but I was definitely surprised to see Martha. I’d have pegged her for a late sleeper. She was dressed casually, in a form-fitted, hot pink sweat suit, complete with matching pink headband. Lonny and Xavier looked slightly rumpled, having slept in their clothes.
I would never understand morning people. But, as Liz pointed out, I knew what I was getting into. And I chose it for a very good reason: it allowed me to be home with Zach. And that was worth any inconvenience.
As I neared the kitchen door, Grandma stopped me. “Please make sure Nicholas gets the top one with the blueberries. They’re his favorite.”
Shaking my head, I carried the pancakes into the dining room and greeted my guests. While my head was foggy, they mostly looked chipper and happy. Was it legal to shoot morning people for being too perky before ten? I would have to quit serving coffee. That’s the only way these people could be functioning so smoothly.
Martha said, “Good morning, my dear. You look like you do better on the evening end of the day.”
Up close, I could see she traded in her audacious shade of lipstick for a more subdued shade of light pink. In the paler shade, she looked prettier. Softer. “You’re right.”
“Well, you know what Ben Franklin said.” Martha quoted, “Early to bed, early to rise…”
“Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise,” finished Dr. Ray.
Martha just laughed. “But wasn’t it Aretha Franklin who topped it with ‘and makes a woman cranky and tired’?”
Dr. Ray smiled at her fondly. “You’re prevaricating again.”
“Okay, Aretha never said that. It was someone else famous.” She pretended to think for a moment. “Oh, yes, I said it.”
“You are definitely famous,” Dr. Ray said. I’d never heard of her before, so he must have been teasing. He caught sight of the blueberry pancake on top of the stack and smiled. “Naomi fixed that for me. She is such a jewel.”
A jewel. Sure enough. A gun-toting jewel in an apron, finding her way to her man’s heart through his stomach. Suddenly, finding Grandma up so early and cooking became clear to me. She was being nice to Nicholas.
“Morning, Vicki.” Lonny looked bright-eyed.
Xavier, however, looked more like what I felt. Dark shadows underlined his eyes and he didn’t smile. Murder definitely did not whet his appetite, as he barely touched his waffle.
“Good morning to you all,” I said. “Lonny, how’s your arm this morning?”
“Always feels great the day after a slashing.” He raised his bandaged arm and smiled.
I put the rest of the waffles into one of the warming trays on the sideboard. Grandma already loaded the others with scrambled eggs and sausage. Bless my sweet Grandma! No matter whom she was cooking for, she helped me out immensely.
I scooped some egg, a sausage and a pancake onto my plate and sat at a nearby empty table. As I ate, I mulled over what I learned from BJ the night before. If Martha was Gregorio’s ex-wife, that must have been the reason BJ got so upset when Martha showed up last night and why she left the mystery dinner in such a huff.
BJ hadn’t come downstairs yet this morning, and I hoped she was sleeping soundly. She’d certainly been upset and drunk enough to warrant a morning in bed. I knew how it felt to lose a loved one. In addition to that grief, I bet BJ would have one heck of a hangover this morning. And, unless she managed to save at least one of her mini bottles, there would be no “hair of the dog” for her.
Martha, Lonny, and Xavier left as DeWayne came in. He piled a plate high with food and sat beside me. His hair was freshly combed, but his eyes were red-rimmed. I studied him for a long moment. “You look like total crap this morning, DeWayne.”
“Why, shucks, thanks, ma’am. That’s the nicest thing any woman’s ever told me. What amazes me is that I dated Liz when I could have been getting verbally abused by you.”
I chuckled. “I see your repartee is still sharp.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I hope your brother can departee himself away from his pregnant little wife long enough to come back up here. I need more sleep.”
I must have looked confused, because he said, “Paul went down first thing this morning to check on Jennifer and talk to the Sheriff’s Department and the medical examiner.”
“Thanks for taking care of us last night, DeWayne. I really appreciate it.”
He flashed his smile at me. “I’m glad I could do it.” He wiggled his fingers dramatically and picked up his fork. “Now stand back and let me eat.”
“I guess you’ve got to do something to stay awake.”
“Heck, yeah.” He spoke around the eggs in his mouth.
Zach was the next person to stagger in, with Liz following behind. “Morning, Mom,” he mumbled.
“Hi, squirt. Why are you up so early on a Saturday? Usually, I have to drag you out of bed.”
He put his head on my shoulder and yawned. “Aunt Liz woke me up with her hair dryer.”
“Did not.” Liz picked up a plate. “He was up already, watching cartoons.”
I put one arm around Zach’s waist and ruffled his hair with the other. “Time to cut your hair.”
“Aw, Mom, take me to Stan this time.” Stan was the only barber in town who still had a barber’s pole in front of his shop. Better cuts than Mom’s home barbershop, and cheaper than the newer salons with names like Your Clip’s Come In.
“You don’t want me to cut your hair anymore?”
“Nope.” Zach picked up a plate and loaded it with food. He ate like Robert (a lot) and I smiled.
I wondered if I should send Zach to stay with one of my many siblings until the murderer was found. Not Paul’s wife, Jennifer, of course, since she was practically between contractions. Pamela, in Salt Lake, was busy teaching a new writing class in addition to her day job. Mom and Dad were in Spain, bringing their oldest grandson, my nephew Scott, home from his church mission. Georgia lived here, but her wilder lifestyle would not be conducive to little boys hanging around.
Maybe I could ask Lonny if he’d take Zach to his family’s house for a few days.
“Okay.” DeWayne rose. “Back to work. Thanks for the food.”
“Sure,” I replied. “Thanks for the protection.”
I supposed it was time for me to get to work, too. I ought to have been helping Grandma with the dishes. But while exiting the dining room, I heard classical music coming from the exercise room.
Through the partially opened door, I caught a glimpse of Martha in the mirror, standing next to the stationary bicycle, her back to me. Too late, pushing the door open further, I realized she and a man were together, their heads bent close. I was interrupting a private moment, but the door had already swung open. They both turned toward me.
To say I was extremely surprised to discover the man in this in
timate pose with Martha was Xavier was an understatement. I guess I needed to have a chat with all the actors about the what-I-thought-was-painfully-obvious fact that they were not to fraternize in a physical way with my guests.
At least, Xavier had the decency to look embarrassed at being caught flirting. As soon as he saw me, he straightened, said a few last too-low-to-overhear words to Martha, nodded at me, and walked out as if nothing were going on, though his cheeks were flushed red. Nothing, my eye.
“Welcome, Mystery Maiden.” Martha smiled warmly. “You know, there were times when I used to wish Gregorio dead. I knew the power of visualization, and I visualized a Mack truck smashing him flat. That was my favorite fantasy.” Despite her words, I could tell she was shaken by her ex-husband’s death. “But I never, not in a million years, imagined him getting murdered.”
As Beethoven played, Martha climbed onto the stationary bicycle and started pedaling. She had long, slender legs, obviously visible through the trim, pink sweats. No wonder Xavier was interested. Though in her fifties, Martha had the body of most thirty-somethings. She was probably in better shape than I, as I just provided the machines, but didn’t use them very often.
“But I don’t think you came here to listen to my fantasies,” Martha said, not even breathing heavily. “What’s on your mind?”
A thought hit me. “When you arrived, you told me your husband was dead.”
She smiled. “No, actually, I told you I recently lost my husband. You assumed I meant he was dead.”
“You are very sneaky.”
“I know. It’s one of my most endearing qualities.”
I shook my head. “I know this is none of my business, but I’m wondering if it’s true that you are Calabria’s wife.”
“Oh, darling. I am most fortunate to be his ex-wife. Who told you that? Oh, let me guess. His lovely, little Fluffi.”
I hesitated.
Martha nodded and said, “So what story did they tell you about me?”
Embarrassed, I admitted, “That you have power of attorney.”
Snowed Inn Page 13
