by Bartlett, LL
I'd just set up a complicated shot when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Laura and Ted turned the corner and stopped dead in the doorway, looking expectantly at the table. I took my shot and all the balls streaked across the table, everything but the cue ball going into three different pockets.
"Wow," Ted said, "you're a jack of all trades."
"I learned some tricks from a pro a few years back." I handed him the cue stick. "It's all yours."
"Thanks," he said, and started racking up for a game. Laura ignored me once again, blasting me with a wave of suspicion. Her stuck-up bitch persona annoyed me, but there was more to it. Did she think I'd killed Eileen?
Still pondering that thought, I wandered into the barroom. The full sherry decanter was again waiting on the bar, along with a sweating pitcher of iced tea. I poured a glass of tea and sat beside Maggie on the loveseat. Her yellow tablet had some sentences scribbled on it, but most had been crossed out.
"Having a hard time getting started?" I asked, and took a sip.
"The muse has not struck. I wish I had a laptop computer."
"How would that help?"
"I find it easier to compose on a keyboard."
"Try the piano," I suggested.
Her eyes narrowed and she frowned. "Very funny."
Laura came into the room, poured herself a glass of sherry, and left without acknowledging our presence.
"Why don't you start by mentioning the friendly atmosphere here at the Sugar Maple. How the guests are just brimming with good cheer and the love of their fellow man."
"Some love. One of them killed Eileen."
"So, lie.”
Her smile was fleeting. "You know your funny feelings?"
I nodded.
"I have one. Only it's what Brenda would call bad vibes. I feel like something's going to happen, only I don't know what."
"There's a lot of tension here. Everyone's afraid. And they're radiating that fear."
"You can feel it?" she asked.
"Yeah. It's really wiping me out." I glanced at my watch; it was almost ten o'clock. "I'm going to hit the sack early. Do you mind?"
She looked panicked. "But I'll be down here all alone."
I nodded toward the game room. "Rich is here. You'll be okay."
"Well ... all right. I'll keep trying to get something down on paper. I won't be long."
I leaned over and kissed her. "Night, love."
"Good night."
As I headed up the stairs, I realized the scattered conversations downstairs would make an excellent cover for a little nosiness on my part. Since no one was in the living room, I crept close to Zack's and Susan's door and heard a television. I did a mental head count; the Andolinas had also been absent from the crowd downstairs. Were they still at dinner? I glanced out the window overlooking the drive. The Cadillac was parked outside; they had to be in their room. I'd bet it wasn't as claustrophobically small as ours. The Camaro was gone. Alyssa and her boyfriend, Doug, were probably at one of the village nightspots; they didn't seem like the stay-at-home types.
On a whim, I decided to do a little reconnoitering and padded down the corridor, listening in front of each of the doors. I heard muffled voices in the room next to Richard's, but it was hard to make out what they were saying; probably the Andolinas steeped in conversation.
I straightened, feeling absolutely stupid. I was tired and really wasn't up to any further investigation, so I turned around and crept back down the hall, hoping the floor boards wouldn't creak beneath me.
The staircase was dark. I flipped the wall switch on and off to no avail.
Great. The damn bulb had burned out.
I started up the steps, inwardly cursing Zack and Susan, stuffed my hand in my jeans pocket and grasped the key to our room. As I topped the stairs, something struck me mid-chest, shoving me backwards. I fell, cartwheeling down the darkened stairwell and smacked my head against the floor.
Then everything went black.
Chapter 9
Celestial noises—like the tinkling of wind chimes—and a melodious voice seemed to murmur in my ear, but I couldn't understand the words. They faded, replaced by an irritating buzz of overlapping voices—sound without meaning. A ferocious pounding whacked the back of my skull, and I cracked open my eyes to see a fuzzy Richard and Maggie overhead, with a throng of curious, troubled faces crowded around behind them. I blinked and the focus sharpened.
"Are you okay, kid?" Richard's voice sounded like it came from an echo chamber.
I was flat on my back, at the bottom of the stairs, with a small pillow tucked behind my head. I blinked at him, unsure how to answer—surprised I had the presence of mind to keep his cover intact.
"Jeff?" he tried again.
I swallowed, took a shaky breath, and noted the concern in my brother's face. "Yeah."
He held up two fingers. "How many?"
"Two."
"What happened?" Maggie asked, her face pale, scared.
"I ... fell." I struggled to sit and my stomach lurched as the world tilted crazily.
Richard pushed me back to the floor. "Take it easy for a few minutes." He turned to the others. "He'll be all right. Let's give him some air, okay?"
"Lucky there was a doctor around," Laura said, shaking her head, and she and Ted retreated to the living room with Susan in tow.
"I'll get another bulb," Zack said, his eyes worried; seeing me, lying on the floor, meant a possible lawsuit.
Footsteps headed back downstairs and a door down the hall closed, then only Richard and Maggie were left.
"How's the head?" Richard asked.
"It hurts."
"You've got a lump the size of an egg."
"Can I get up now? This is really embarrassing."
"Wait until Zack gets that light bulb in, okay?"
I sank back with a sigh.
"Is he going to be all right?" Maggie asked Richard.
"Yes," we said in unison.
Moments later Zack was back, and soon after the hall and stairwell basked in the glow of 100 watts. Richard helped me sit. "Do you think you can make it up the stairs?"
"Of course.”
Despite my bravado, my legs were rubbery as they pulled me to my feet. I had to lean on Richard to make it up the stairs. Maggie opened the door to our room and Richard led me to the bed, where I collapsed.
He pulled up the straight-backed chair and sat down. "Okay, what really happened?" he asked, once Maggie had closed the door.
"The light at the top of the stairs was out. Someone was up there and gave me a shove that sent me flying."
"Who?"
"It was too dark—I couldn't see."
"Are you sure you were pushed?" Richard asked.
I nodded and winced. "How long was I out?"
"Maybe a minute. We heard one hell of a crash and everyone came running."
"Did you see anyone?"
"Mrs. Andolina was bending over you when we got there. I didn't see anyone else," Maggie said.
I rubbed the back of my head, my pulse reverberating through my skull. "Could you get a couple of my pills and some water, Maggie?"
"No," Richard said. "That stuff is for migraines. I'll give you some Tylenol."
"You brought your little black bag along?"
"Lucky for you I did."
I exhaled a long breath, trying to collect my thoughts. "Did you learn anything from the Canucks?"
"Only that they're frightened. It's put a real damper on their honeymoon. They've only been married a week. We had a nice conversation about Old Québec. Michele's studio is in the heart of the old city. Sounds wonderful. I've got to take Brenda there some day."
I lifted my head and looked around. Nothing in the room seemed to have been disturbed. "Was the door locked?" I asked Maggie.
"Yes. You had the key in your hand when we found you. I took it," she said, and showed me she still held it.
"Are you sure you were pushed?" Richard asked again.
"Yes, dammit! I must've interrupted them—him, her—before they could do whatever it was they wanted to do in our room." I sank back on the pillow, frustrated. "Oh, my head."
"You don't seem concussed, but if you have any problems—double vision, nausea, anything unusual—call me." He shook a finger of warning at me. "I'm serious."
"Okay."
He rose from the chair. "Hang on. I'll go get the Tylenol." He finally noticed the room. "Boy, this place really is small." Then he was off.
Maggie sat on the bed beside me. She took my hand, radiating fear. "I want to go home.”
I squeezed her fingers. "We can't. Not until the police say so."
"Whoever did this could have killed you."
"Everyone was accounted for...." I thought about it for a moment. "Well, I'm not really sure about Susan and Zack, or the blonde bimbo and her boyfriend, but—"
"You can't suspect Zack and Susan."
"I suspect everyone except you and Richard." She frowned. "How well do you know the Dawsons, anyway?"
"Not well," Maggie admitted. "This is Susan's second marriage. She met Zack in Mystic, Connecticut, a couple of years ago. He used to own a landscaping business and was living on his sailboat. I guess they fell in love. He sold it and his business and they bought the inn a little over a year ago."
"And you haven't even seen or heard from her in at least ten years, right?" She wouldn't meet my gaze. "Susan's carrying a secret about Eileen that even Zack doesn't know."
Maggie looked up at me. "How do you know?" Her frown deepened. "Why do I even bother to ask?"
The silence that followed weighed heavy between us. I squeezed her hand again, hoping she'd feel reassured. Stupid really, since someone had deliberately hurt me, proving just how ineffective I was as her protector.
Richard knocked on the door, pushing it open. Maggie rose, went into the bathroom and got me a glass of water. I downed the pills he gave me.
"Get some rest," Richard ordered. He looked at Maggie. "Come get me if he's too stupid or macho to admit he's having problems."
"I will," she promised.
"See you at breakfast, right?"
"Thanks, Rich." I gave him a wan smile. Words couldn't express my gratitude for him being here. And I still didn't really know why I needed him.
He gave us a smile, and then closed the door behind him. I watched Maggie lock it.
"Why do I feel like the worst is yet to come?" she asked.
"I don't want to scare you, love, but I've felt the same way all day."
"Damn, I wish we'd never come here. Damn it all!" Teary-eyed, she hurried to the bathroom and shut the door.
I sank into the mattress. Someone had been up here, either in our room or contemplating entering it. Here, where none of the other registered guests would go—not unless they had something to hide ... or to plant. Maybe Richard and I should have checked all the empty rooms on the second floor.
Could someone still be hiding there—listening to us?
Who?
Why?
Maggie said Kay Andolina had been the first to find me. Could Susan or Zack have pushed me, then come downstairs by another route? I didn't even know if the inn had a back stair. I'd have to check it out in the morning. At that moment, I wanted to do nothing more than escape in sleep, because in sleep I was oblivious—of blame, of fear. And much as I wanted to deny it, I was beginning to feel afraid.
And I didn't like it. Not one damn bit.
Chapter 10
I was up early the next morning. Thin gray light came in the window at the far end of the inn’s empty second floor hall. Shoeless, I padded down its length and found no back staircase. I'd been waiting since before dawn to investigate the other rooms on the floor. All were sealed with the same flimsy locks on our door, but that didn't stop me. With a little finesse, Maggie's hairpin let me inside the first room.
As Susan had said, the rooms were in various stages of renovation. Two had no plumbing fixtures; none had carpet, exposing wide pine plank floors—and all of them were bigger than the cell Maggie and I shared.
I opened a window overlooking the back of the property, stuck my head outside and saw metal escape ladders from all three back rooms. None of them were extended. It would have been impossible not to hear the rattle of metal if the person who'd pushed me down the stairs had used one of them to escape. The hot tub and pool were visible from this vantage point. If any of the guests had seen Eileen floating face down two nights before, they hadn't said so.
The room next to ours was the biggest, and might well be the best in the inn when finished. Zack and Susan planned to install a gas fire, as a brochure for one was taped to the wall. A layer of drywall dust covered the floor. Footprints marred it, but it was impossible to tell the number of people who’d stomped around or how long ago they'd been made. My attacker could have stood in that room and simply waited until we went to sleep before escaping by way of the main staircase. I closed my eyes, concentrating, hoping to soak in the residual aura from the last person who'd been in the room.
I got nothing.
Signs of life from the floor below made me check my watch and realize I'd been gone for almost an hour. I headed back to our room.
Maggie was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair dry. "Where did you go?"
"Just to check out the other rooms on this floor."
"And?"
I shrugged. "Nothing."
"Good. I don't need any more surprises. What are we doing today? I mean, can we go someplace? I need to get away from here."
"How about ice cream at Ben and Jerry's?"
Her smile was dazzling. "Sounds wonderful."
I sat beside her on the bed and kissed her. Then I kissed her again. And again. And we started the day all over again ... together.
We made it to the dining room about halfway through the breakfast rush. Richard had beaten us there, and was seated with the Andolinas. An empty plate sat before him, along with a half-filled coffee cup. Kay Andolina was in her glory in the midst of an anecdote, telling it with great delight. Richard's glazed expression was one I recognized from other occasions: bored to death. I felt a little sorry for him, but that didn't keep me from smiling at his predicament.
We grabbed coffee and parked at a table nearby. The atmosphere wasn't so grim this morning. Zack, Nadine, and Adam were in the kitchen once again bantering back and forth. I decided against an entree, but went through the buffet and grabbed scrambled eggs and sausages. Maggie stuck with her favorite Western omelet and toast.
We'd almost finished eating by the time the Andolinas got up, leaving Richard with his cold coffee. He sat alone for a few minutes, staring out the window before getting up. He paused briefly at the table where the Canadian couple sat, spoke to them, again in French, and must have made a wonderful joke because they broke out in delighted laughter. I was working on my third cup of coffee when he finally made it to our table.
"My, we're popular with the other guests."
He ignored my comment. "You're looking better. How do you feel?"
"I've got a bit of headache, but it's the kind I'm used to having."
"Did you take your medication?"
"Of course. It's already fading."
"Good. Then maybe you'll feel like exploring the area."
"Sounds like a plan. Meet me out in the garden in ten minutes and we'll talk."
"Okay."
He wandered off and I sipped my coffee.
The Canadian couple finished their breakfasts and got up. I was surprised when they stopped to speak to us.
"How are you today?" the woman asked in only slightly accented English. She brushed a strand of her long, brown hair behind her left ear, her expression concerned.
"Much better, thank you."
"I am Michele DuBois and this is my husband, Jean."
I introduced Maggie and myself.
"I was so worried when you had your accident last night. Frightening things have
been happening here." She studied my face for a moment, perplexed. "Do you know, you seem to resemble the doctor."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "I do?"
"Oui. It's impossible, no? But your noses are very similar. I am an artist. I paint for a living. My specialty is portraits."
Jean gently nudged her arm. "We must go."
She smiled. "Good day."
After they'd gone, I found Maggie studying me. "I don't think you look like Richard."
"He got our mother's blue eyes, I got my father's brown eyes."
She shrugged and pushed back her chair. "I'm going to the room. Want me to bring you anything?"
"Yeah, my camera bag. If we're going out, I may as well take some pictures." That is if I could buy another memory card.
"Okay. Meet you at the car in fifteen minutes." She headed for the stairs and I left my empty plate and cup on the table and made for the door to the gardens.
Although the temperature was in the mid-sixties, the trees were already beginning to show the change of season. The highest branches were tinged with yellow and orange. Zack and Susan had dug a fishpond near the inn's namesake sugar maple, and I wandered across the enormous yard, stopping by the miniature lake. Seeing my shadow, the fish gathered before me, impatiently waiting for food.
"Sorry, boys, it ain't feeding time." I sat down on the bench provided and watched the fish swim in lazy circles.
A lot of care had gone into the gardens in the back, but like the front of the inn there were signs of neglect. Maggie said Zack used to own a landscaping business, so he must've had the green thumb. I couldn't imagine Susan getting dirt under her long nails.
"Penny for your thoughts," came Richard's voice from behind me.
I turned. "I don't think I can make change."
He held a slice of bread, broke off a corner, and tossed it into the pond. The fish went wild, like hungry piranha.
"Are you supposed to do that?"
"Probably not." He threw in another piece. "What's on tap today?"
"Maggie's freaked. She wants to go home. Hell, I want to go home. But I have this feeling something's going to break today. If it does, maybe we can leave tomorrow. In the meantime, let's do some touristy stuff, get her mind off all this."
