Secrets of Harmony Grove

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “Floyd? He’s out of the hospital?”

  Mike glanced at me as he came to a stop.

  “The hospital released him this morning.”

  “Where’s he been all day?” I asked, realizing that must have been why the hospital hadn’t had him listed as a patient when I called.

  “Down at the station.”

  “Down at the station? Why?”

  “The firearm violation,” Mike said, putting the car into park and turning it off. “Our people worked it out, but it took a while.”

  “You mean the gun he had last night? How was that a violation?”

  Mike spoke, but his voice still sounded flat and cold.

  “Unlawful possession, thanks to his criminal record. Though as I said earlier, it looks like it’ll be treated as a summary offense.”

  He opened his door to get out, but I remained frozen in my seat, wondering if he had just said what I thought he said.

  “Floyd has a criminal record,” I repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “As in prison? The manager of my inn has been in prison?”

  “Yes. You didn’t know that?”

  Suddenly angry, I reached for the car door and whipped it open.

  “No, I didn’t know that!” I cried, climbing out and slamming the door. Remaining on the opposite side of the car, still chewing the toothpick, Mike stood there and watched me rant. “Here we go again! First Troy with his gambling and Emory with his past. And now Floyd? Is there anyone else I need to know about? Maybe Nina’s parents are really drug runners? Jonah and Liesl are into human trafficking? Burl Newton has a history of dressing up like a clown and terrorizing preschools?” He did not smile. “Does every person involved here have some big, dark, law-breaking secret?”

  As soon as those words were out of my mouth, I knew they were a mistake. Mike remained silent for a long moment, making his point. When he spoke, it was in a voice as cold as ice.

  “You tell me, Sienna.”

  I took a step back, smoothed my hair, and tried to collect myself. He was right. Though I had done nothing wrong, I was certainly keeping my own share of secrets.

  “Tomorrow,” I whispered, feeling suddenly deflated. “I promise I’ll tell you everything I know tomorrow.”

  There was an intensity to his expression that was nearly frightening. I knew that not only had I made him angry on a professional level, but that I had hurt him deeply in some personal way as well.

  Perhaps the damage could be mended after the fact, once Liz came and I could talk. Right now, I had bigger issues to deal with—namely, an employee who was likely using my inn to launder money and, oh, by the way, never thought to mention that he was an ex-convict.

  “Before I go in there and confront Floyd, at least let me know the nature of his crime. Was it violent? The man who runs my business isn’t a murderer or something, is he?”

  Mike studied my face for a moment before shaking his head.

  “No. Strictly white collar.”

  “How much time did he serve?”

  “Three years.”

  “Where? Some cushy white collar ‘confinement facility’?”

  “No, Rahwey.”

  I swallowed hard, my eyes wide.

  “Floyd Underhill spent three years at Rahwey State Penitentiary? That’s huge, Mike. That’s hard core.”

  “Yep, sure is.”

  “An ex-con, who was at Rahwey no less, has had free rein over this place for two years? I trusted this man with my business here, implicitly.”

  He shrugged, hands out and palms up.

  “What can I say? Maybe you should have checked his references.”

  He was still hurt, I understood that, but now his attitude was making me angry again.

  “Floyd’s big reference was Troy. I didn’t think I needed any others. Obviously, I’m not a very good judge of character.”

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about myself.”

  Our eyes met and held, his sparked with challenge, mine with fury. Did he really want to dwell on us right now? Good grief. There were far more important things going on at the moment.

  “You have a lot of nerve, Detective, acting all hurt and put out with me and everything. Get over it. You know very well that you would do exactly the same thing. There’s not a cop alive who wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he were in my shoes right now.”

  His head jerked slightly back, and I could tell I had struck a nerve.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an employee to talk to.”

  With that, I marched around the front of the car and up the walk toward the door, my head and heart pounding with rage. But before I could even get there, Mike grabbed my elbow, jerking me to a stop.

  “Sienna, wait!”

  “What?”

  He didn’t let go but instead held on with a firm hand, his body very close to mine, so close I could smell his aftershave, blended with the scents of sun and sweat and earth.

  “You need to settle down first before you go in there. I understand why you’re upset with Floyd, but bursting into the inn in a rage and confronting him like that isn’t going to help anyone. He’s an old guy. He had a rough night and an even rougher day.”

  I met Mike’s eyes, which were black as night, mere inches from mine.

  “You’re afraid I’ll take him down like I did Jeremy Lantz?”

  His lips tilted ever so slightly at the corners but he resisted a full smile.

  “Yeah, something like that. Just calm down first, that’s all I’m saying.”

  His hand still gripped my arm, my scars pulsating under the heat of his fingers. Holding his gaze, I could see his eyes flicker with intensity, an intensity that felt both exciting and frightening at the same time.

  “Sienna?” a voice said from not too far away, a man’s voice.

  Startled, Mike and I both turned quickly to see who had spoken. He was standing at the edge of the driveway, his face half hidden in shadow.

  Heath.

  THIRTY

  “Heath! What are you doing here?” I blurted out as Mike and I moved apart. Realizing how odd I probably sounded, I tried again, making my voice much warmer this time. “I mean, I’m so glad you came. You just startled me. I-I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

  My boyfriend stepped forward into the light, his eyes moving from me to Mike and back to me again. My cheeks were burning, though I hoped there wasn’t enough light by the back door for him to see. Heath walked up to me, and I quickly moved to embrace him, my heart full of mortification, guilt, and embarrassment.

  “What’s going on here? Is everything all right?” he asked as our hug ended. He looked again at Mike, obviously not sure how to read the scene he had just come upon.

  “Nothing. Yes. I mean, let me introduce you,” I said. “Heath, this is Mike Weissbaum, the detective investigating Troy’s case. Mike, this is Dr. Heath Davis.” I hesitated and then added, “My boyfriend.”

  Much to my surprise, Heath slipped an arm around my shoulders and held me there, almost possessively, a move that for him was very uncharacteristic. He then offered his hand to Mike for a shake. Mike paused just a beat and then accepted it, the two men gripping so tightly as they shook each other’s hands that I was afraid there might be a crushing of bones. After that, I was glad when Mike said he was, in fact, just on the point of leaving when Heath had arrived.

  The handsome detective nodded at me and then walked away, whistling as he went down the walk toward his car. As I watched him go, my heart grew heavy with shame. Why had I been playing with fire like that? Right now, the last thing I needed in my life was more drama.

  Trying to assuage my guilt—and maybe to keep Heath from looking into my eyes at that moment—once Mike had rounded the corner I gave Heath another hug. He held me tightly in return, though I wasn’t sure if the fervency of his embrace was due to suspicions that had been awakened or simply from concern about my well-being.

  “I know you
said not to come until tomorrow, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I couldn’t even think straight. A few hours ago, I almost prescribed acne meds to a guy with gout. That’s when I decided I had to get out of there. All it took was a quick shift switch with one of my partners and now I’m covered through Monday.”

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “I was afraid you would tell me not to come.”

  Heath pulled back from our embrace so that he could look into my eyes and study my face. Still feeling flushed from the surprise and embarrassment of his unexpected appearance, I had to force myself to look him in the eye.

  “Sienna, are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine, Heath. Absolutely fine, I promise.”

  With a flicker of light, I realized that something had changed inside the house. Looking at the windows, we could see that the kitchen light had been turned off and Floyd’s bedroom light turned on. After a beat, the light for his bathroom turned on as well, and that was followed a moment later by the faint sound of running water.

  “Sounds like Floyd’s getting in the shower,” I said. “Good timing. I have to have a serious talk with him, but it would probably be better if I filled you in on things first.”

  “Walk with me to my car to get my stuff. Tell me everything.”

  “First, you tell me what you thought about the books. Were you able to get a good look at the file I sent you?

  “Yes.”

  “Then I have a feeling I already know what you’re going to say.”

  “Oh?”

  “That the books look perfect, everything ties out great, and there are no issues at all with one exception. It seems very odd that everything here is being done—”

  “In cash,” he said in unison with me. “Bingo. How did you know?”

  Speaking softly but quickly, I tried to give him a recap of events, picking up from where he and I had left off this morning and taking him through my day up to what I had learned about the Secret Service. As he listened, I could see that he was wearing his “doctor” face, almost as if the events and discoveries here were symptoms he could collect, analyze, and then diagnose. In a sense, I realized, that was exactly what was needed: a diagnosis, one that would explain whatever sick, strange things had been going on at my inn in my absence and without my knowledge.

  I was nearly finished with my recap by the time he had unloaded his suitcase and other items from the car and we returned back up the walk to the door. Not yet ready to confront Floyd, I listened at his bathroom window for a moment, just to make sure the shower was still running, and then we stepped inside the back door.

  I had been so intent on bringing Heath up to speed that I completely forgot this was the first time he had ever been here. Stepping into the main room, I told him to put his things down at the foot of the stairs for now. As he did, I caught a glimpse of his face and was surprised and pleased by what I saw there. His eyes were wide as he looked around in wonder, taking it all in.

  “Wow, Sienna, this is your humble little bed-and-breakfast? You have to be kidding me. Honey, this place is incredible!”

  I beamed proudly, as if the B and B were my child and had just taken the blue ribbon at the gymnastics meet, the science fair, and the beauty pageant all in one. Looking around the room, I tried to see the place through Heath’s eyes and had to admit that it really did pack quite a punch.

  “Are you hungry?” Heath asked, holding up a brown bag he had carried in from the car, and as he did, I recognized its delicious, familiar scent.

  “Please tell me that’s what I think it is.”

  “Yep,” he replied, eyes twinkling. “You know I can’t live without my General Tso’s chicken.”

  Heath was teasing. He wasn’t crazy about Chinese food but he had gone there for takeout because he knew it was my favorite. Being this thoughtful was so like him. And how had I repaid him? By practically throwing myself into the arms of another man the first chance I got!

  I suggested that we eat in the dining room, and we made our way there together, Heath’s eyes taking in every design element and architectural touch along the way. After he put the bag down on the large mahogany table and I began to unload its contents, I felt a surge of gratitude so overwhelming that my eyes filled with tears.

  Seeing those tears, Heath immediately took me in his arms and cradled me there for a long moment. No words were necessary between us. It was enough that he was here and that he cared.

  He was just a little over six feet tall, but sometimes when I stood this close to him, he felt like a giant to me. Looking up at the smooth, chiseled plains of his handsome face, his piercing blue eyes, his neatly cut sandy brown hair, I felt again the surge of attraction that had hit me the first night we met and had done so every time I had been with him since. Even more good looking, though, was the man he was on the inside: kind, gentle, solid. My rock.

  Maybe it was a good thing that he had come out here to Lancaster County earlier than expected. Whatever seemed to have been drawing me to Mike paled in comparison to the feelings I had for Heath, something I hadn’t realized until just that moment.

  “Thanks for coming,” I whispered, meaning it.

  “I couldn’t not,” he replied before taking my chin in his hand, tilting it just so, and giving me a kiss.

  By the time we heard Floyd finally emerge from his room, Heath and I had served up our plates in the kitchen, heated them in the microwave, and were back at the dining table about to start eating.

  “Hello? Is someone here?” Floyd’s voice called, interrupting our grace.

  “Amen,” Heath said softly.

  “In here. The dining room,” I called.

  Floyd’s head popped out from around the corner.

  “Sienna? It’s you! I thought I heard somebody.”

  He came all the way into the room, dressed in casual clothes, his hair—or what there was of it—still damp from the shower. He walked directly over to Heath, holding out his hand for a shake and introducing himself as Floyd Underhill, manager of Harmony Grove Bed & Breakfast.

  What a joke.

  Floyd gave me a light hug, and though I expected to feel a surge of my earlier anger toward him, at the moment my overwhelming emotion was one of pity. No wonder Mike had told me to go easy on him. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and an unhealthy pallor to his skin.

  “We have a lot to talk about, Floyd,” I said gravely.

  “We sure do!” he replied. “Man, that smells good. Mind if I grab a plate for myself first?”

  Heath and I looked at each other and then back at Floyd. I was thrown by his enthusiastic response and relieved when Heath rose from the table and replied for us both, escorting Floyd to the kitchen and describing the food choices that awaited there as they went.

  I needed a moment alone to gather my wits about me. Judging by Floyd’s upbeat and enthusiastic demeanor, he had no idea where our conversation was about to go. Obviously, he thought I was still clueless about his past history and his current exploits, and he was gearing up to blow a little smoke as usual. But I had news for him. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

  And I was about to turn up the heat.

  THIRTY-ONE

  By the time Floyd returned to the room, I was feeling much more in control. Watching him as he settled across from me to eat and chat, I tried to picture him in prison orange, sitting in a dingy cafeteria among hardened criminals. Somehow, that wasn’t so easy to do.

  With his balding pate and pudgy features, Floyd looked to me the way he always had, like the neighbor who keeps to himself but gives a friendly wave when he goes out to get the paper, or the uncle who comes to the family gatherings but never talks about much more than the weather or the latest ball game. Floyd was forgettable, nondescript, unnoticeable.

  Perhaps that was what made him such a good criminal.

  “I found out this morning that you’re the one who called nine-one-one last night, Sienna,” Floyd was sa
ying as he smoothed a paper napkin on his lap. “I’m sure glad you showed up when you did, or I might have died. Can’t wait till they find out what happened to me.”

  “And to Nina,” I reminded him. “And Troy.”

  “Well, yes, of course.”

  Heath entered with a glass of milk and set it down in front of Floyd, saying, “Here you go.”

  “Ah, thanks so much. Man, I’m beat. All I wanted all day was a shower, a decent meal, and a comfortable bed. Bet I’ll sleep like a log tonight. Are you guys staying over? Guess you’ll want the Oak Room, huh?”

  He speared a piece of sweet and sour chicken with his fork and popped it in his mouth.

  “Oak and Birch,” I replied at the same moment that Heath said, “Separate rooms. Thanks.”

  Floyd nodded, still chewing, and I realized that this was how he was hoping to play it, just acting friendly and innocent until he could wolf down his meal and escape to his bedroom.

  Good luck with that.

  “We have to talk, Floyd,” I said, noting his almost imperceptible reaction to my words. Except for a brief pause in his chewing, he didn’t seem startled by my statement at all but instead simply nodded his head, maintaining his bland expression. “Let’s start with your version of events from last night. I want to know everything.”

  Floyd swallowed, dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, and launched right in, telling us how Troy had shown up on Monday for an overnight stay but then had decided to extend that stay for a few days. On Tuesday morning, Troy had offered to cover things if Floyd wanted to take a little time off, which he did. After an overnight visit with family in Jersey, Floyd had just returned yesterday evening and was making himself a sandwich in the kitchen when he heard a woman scream. The scream had come from outside, so Floyd retrieved the gun from his bedroom and ran out to see what was going on. There, though the screaming had stopped, he followed the sounds of splashing, only to find Nina on her knees beside the pool, dripping wet and trying to do CPR on an obviously dead Troy.