“It would seem that Rick Moody has been found.”
Margot halted her pacing. “Really?”
“Yes. Coworkers got suspicious when he missed work a few days in a row. But, Margot—” He paused and she heard muffled sounds as if he’d covered the mouthpiece of the phone to answer someone. “Sorry,” he said a moment later.
“You’ve really got this whole suspense thing down, Mister Eastwood.”
“It’s not good news.”
“That he was found?”
“More like how he was found.”
“Dare I ask?”
“He was murdered, Margot.”
She gasped. Rick was dead? She looked at the note again. “Well…that’s interesting.”
“Margot—” Adam said in a chiding tone.
“No,” she was quick to explain. “I say it like that because CeCe just got a note supposedly from Rick.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.” Margot paced back toward the path that led to their cabins, her mind racing through all angles.
“Margot, I—”
A scream echoed out through the forest and Margot yanked her head in the direction it had come from. “I’ve got to go,” she said.
“Margot, what’s going on?”
She started racing toward the cabins. She knew that voice, it was CeCe!
“No time to explain,” she panted, “I’m going to lose the signal, but CeCe needs me.” Then she hung up. She felt guilty doing that to Adam when she knew he would want details, but her friend was in trouble by the sounds of it.
When she was near the cabin, she almost stopped to go back. Should she have gotten one of the many police officers and volunteers in the lodge? But by that time, she was already too far to go back.
She raced to the front door only to find it wide open. “CeCe,” she called out, taking the steps two at a time and skidding to a stop at the door. CeCe stood just inside the door, every part of her trembling. Margot gently reached out and touched CeCe’s shoulder but she yanked away, as if shocked.
“It’s me, CeCe, it’s Margot.”
As if coming out of a trance, CeCe blinked. “Marg—” Then she gave into tears and dropped her head onto Margot’s shoulder. “It’s horrible. So horrible.”
Margot comforted her friend and looked in through the open door. There, propped up behind the couch, was a painting Margot remembered seeing in CeCe’s apartment when they had only been out of college for a few years. If she remembered correctly, it had been painted by CeCe’s father.
But now, the fact that it was art was the last thing anyone would notice about it. It had been painted over in what looked like blood with two words: Love me.
Margot shivered, pulling CeCe closer. “I’m sorry, my friend.”
“But…how?” she managed against Margot’s shoulder. “How is it here? It was in my storage facility that no one knew about. And is that blood?”
Margot squeezed her friend’s shoulders and then gently eased away. “I don’t know, but we’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise you!”
Though, even as she said it, she began to wonder just how they would do that.
Careful not to disturb anything else, Margot made her way toward the painting. The closer she got the more she felt as if the red did look like blood. After Adam’s news about Rick, she was beginning to wonder what was really going on here.
Was it about CeCe? Or was this about something else entirely?
Either way, she knew what had to happen next, and she had a feeling CeCe wasn’t going to like it.
Chapter 9
“No,” CeCe said, adamantly shaking her head. “I can’t. It’s not right to burden them with my troubles.”
“Would you rather we talk to Detective Rexton? Because, at this point, I think that’s our next option. I mean, if this is real blood, we really should involve the authorities.”
“I told you last night,” CeCe said, pacing back to the window and then turning to look at Margot. “I don’t want the police involved yet. Lela and Stan already have so much to deal with and I would only be adding on issues with this whole Rick thing.”
Margot’s stomach clenched. She still hadn’t told her friend about her husband’s death. It hadn’t been the right time last night, though Margot had felt the pressure to tell her what Adam had discovered. After they’d found the painting, they’d again both spent the night in her cabin. They had decided to come back over that morning to look at it again in the light of day, though it was just as frightening.
“CeCe, I’m afraid I have some…bad news.”
Her friend pulled her attention away from the ruined painting and looked at Margot. “What?”
“I was going to tell you last night, but the timing wasn’t right. I talked with Adam about what was going on here—”
“I asked you not to share,” she said, looking hurt that her friend had broken her trust.
“I know, but I haven’t mentioned anything to Stan or Lela, I just needed to have his perspective on this because he has connections I don't have.”
“What did he say?” she asked, looking weary.
“He was concerned at first, of course, and looked into where Rick might be. He found out that he had disappeared about two weeks ago.”
CeCe’s eyes widened. “Right when I started being harassed by him again.”
“I found that strange as well. Anyway, I told him to keep looking and he did.” She hesitated, knowing the next part would be difficult as well as confusing to her friend. “But, CeCe, Adam told me last night that Rick was found…dead.”
“D-dead?” CeCe paled. “You…you’re wrong. He can’t be dead. He’s tormenting me—clearly, he’s not dead. He-he can’t be.”
“I know it seems impossible, but Adam wouldn't have told me if it weren’t true. CeCe, he was murdered.”
CeCe backed away from the painting and toward a chair across the room. She sunk down, dropping her head to her hands. “Margot, what is going on?”
Margot came to her side, perching on the edge of the chair and resting her hand on her friend’s back, rubbing in a soothing manner. “I'm sorry, CeCe. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear—murder never is—but it does give us some insight.”
“Insight?” She looked up at Margot through tear-filled eyes.
“Yes. Because it’s clearly not Rick who is stalking and tormenting you, that means there’s something else behind this.”
“But what?” Her friend’s voice broke with the emotional strain. “I have no idea why anyone would single me out this way. I haven’t done anything to anyone. I’m a good worker, a good friend—at least I hope so—and I keep to myself most of the time. I haven’t even said an unkind word here at work. There is literally no one who would have any reason to harm me like this.”
Margot had already gone through these things mentally before CeCe had even summarized them and she had to agree, it made no sense why CeCe was the target of someone’s cruel games. And yet she was.
“I don’t know. Sometimes people latch on to something they see in someone. Maybe you’re a surrogate for someone else’s anger. Or maybe it’s not about you…” Margot’s mind began to fill in possible ideas as she’d done before. She’d vetted most of the kitchen staff and had a feeling her gut reaction was true there. No one wanted to oust her from her job.
So there had to be something else. If it truly wasn’t related to CeCe as a person, then possibly her position at the resort? But that seemed difficult to believe considering the reality that CeCe was just a chef. A talented one, of course, but still nothing more special than that.
“We need to talk to Lela and Stan.”
CeCe let out a huge sigh and slowly nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
They left the cabin, securing the door behind them though it felt futile since it was obvious whoever had placed the painting as well as the other items in her room had special access.
Margot again reminded herself that she neede
d to find a way to access the logs for entry into the cabins. It made the most sense that a maid’s keycard had been stolen, but when she’d suggested that to CeCe, her friend had said there hadn’t been any reports of a theft or a missing card.
They walked through the lush, tree-lined path toward the lodge and, as soon as they entered, CeCe went to talk to the young woman behind the desk, informing her that the maids were to skip CeCe’s room.
Then they made their way up the stairs to the Wilkinsons’ residence.
Before CeCe could knock, Stan was at the door. “There’s my CeCe girl,” he said, welcoming them in and kissing CeCe on the cheek. “What brings you our way so early in the morning?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, glancing between Stan and Lela still in a white robe at the small dinette table. “There’s something I must tell you both.”
They looked concerned but Stan ushered them to the table and made sure they both had steaming mugs of coffee before she could begin.
“Come now, dear,” Lela said, her smile matching the warmth of the cup between Margot’s hands. “Tell us what is the matter.”
With a steadying breath and a glance at Margot for encouragement, CeCe plunged into the story of what had happened. The Wilkinsons were quiet through it all, though a look of horror came over them as CeCe explained the multiple ‘gifts’ the admirer had left her, ending with the last one.
“Blood?” Lela said, her features paling. “This is very serious.”
“I know,” CeCe said, dropping her gaze. “Margot encouraged me to tell you both about this. I should have told you before, but I didn’t want to add to your burden. There’s already so much going on.”
“Nonsense,” Stan said, slapping the table. “We care about you, CeCe girl, you’re not just another employee to us. You’re like family. You should be able to come to us for anything. Can you remember that?”
She offered a sheepish smile. “I can.”
“Good,” he said with finality. “Now, we need to figure out what to do.”
“I think we need to involve the police,” Margot said, speaking up for the first time.
“Margot,” CeCe said, sending her an admonishing look. “If they get involved, it’ll only mean more grief for us all here. I think you’re more than qualified to figure out who’s bothering me.”
“But the police—”
“Will only get in the way.” CeCe’s look implored Margot to see things her way.
“But the blood.”
“It’s probably only paint.”
“And the snake—that was a serious threat.”
“It was in your room, and we have no evidence that it was placed in there. It could have found a way in through the vents.”
Margot was beginning to feel frustrated. Didn’t her friend see that cases of stalking like this were a serious thing? Didn’t she see the potential danger? Besides, there was also the reality that if the blood was real on the painting, it would be serious cause for alarm. And, depending on whose blood it was, it could be part of an ongoing investigation. Though, her hunch was just that—a hunch that the blood would prove to be Rick’s.
“Please, Margot, see things my way. I don't have anyone to accuse so a restraining order isn’t possible. There’s been no real damage to me, so I can’t point to that. The only things are the threatening notes.”
“And the blood—”
“You mean the paint.”
They stared at each other for a long moment before Margot nodded. “All right. Okay. I’ve already told you that I would look into this, that hasn’t changed, but if anything else happens that seems to involve blood or a direct threat to your life, we go to Detective Rexton and tell him everything.”
“Yes,” CeCe agreed.
Margot and CeCe left Stan and Lela to the peace of the early morning, but Margot couldn’t help but feel as if she’d agreed to something very dangerous.
After breakfast, Margot stopped to talk with Fran and Edgar for a few minutes before making her way through the lingering crowd toward the lodge entry. She was going to talk to the girl behind the desk about the entry logs, something she’d forgotten to ask Lela and Stan about getting access too, when she spotted a familiar silhouette across the room. No, it couldn’t be.
Her eyes narrowed and, as the door closed and cut back on the sunlight, Adam’s face came into focus. It was Adam!
She picked her way through the crowd toward him, coming to stop in front of him, breathless. “You’re here. How are you here?”
“What kind of greeting is that?” he asked with a grin.
She went up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek then looked him in the eye again. “Why are you here?”
“For a long overdue vacation, of course. Don’t I get to take one too?”
Her hands found their way to her hips of their own accord. “Why are you really here?”
“Vacation,” he said with another wide grin.
“I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged, trying his best to look innocent. “Vacation…and the possibility of helping you.”
“Ha! I knew it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Does the chief know you’re here?”
“He knows I went on vacation.” Adam turned his gaze up to survey the room around them. “And I may or may not be working with Les on Rick Moody’s death.”
“So Les knows you’re here.”
“Of course, he’s my partner. He was more than happy to see me go on vacation.”
Margot rolled her eyes. “You are ridiculous. You’re here to help me find out who’s bothering CeCe, aren’t you? And to tell me the details of Rick’s death. And to—”
“Woah, hold on there. I can’t divulge details of an ongoing investigation.”
“Well, can you send a sample back to the lab to test for a match with Rick’s blood?”
He frowned. “Rick’s blood. What are you talking about?”
“Last night,” she began, but Adam cut her off.
“You mean when you almost gave me a heart attack when you hung up on me?”
“I’m sorry about that. CeCe was screaming and—”
“Why was she screaming?”
“Because of the painting. And the blood.”
“Back up, will you?”
Margot grinned despite the situation. She had missed this man and his humor, but also his hyper-focus. When there was something to be analyzed or studied, he was the first to focus and get to business.
“Come here,” she said, pulling him toward a couch in the far corner. Then she told him everything.
When she was done, he shook his head and whistled low. “Margot, we should talk to the local authorities.”
“I know, that’s what I told CeCe, but she’s bound and determined not to. There’s already the death investigation going on and—”
“What?”
Margot pressed her lips together and shook her head. How had so much have happened in such a short amount of time? She quickly filled Adam in on what had happened, how they had come across the body, and the incongruities she had noted when they’d ruled it an accident. Then she explained how Detective Rexton had come back, establishing it a homicide.
“That explains all of the squad cars outside,” he said, nodding.
“Yes, but when I told CeCe to involve him, she doesn’t want to prolong the investigation here for the sake of the Wilkinsons. She has a bit of a point though with the fact that, while she’s been threatened, there is no one attached to the acts.”
“So, you think the blood on the painting could be Rick’s.”
“After what you told me last night—that he was dead—I’m beginning to wonder if someone went to great lengths to research Rick and his previous stalking habits toward CeCe. Then, maybe when he got in the way or wouldn’t give the information they needed, he had to be…removed.”
“You mean killed.”
“Yes. Whether by accident or initially, I think they may have taken t
hat opportunity to get some of his blood.”
“It’s a bit of a stretch, Margie,” he said, using her familiar nickname.
“I know. I’m at the hypothesizing stage where anything goes,” she said with a sad smile. “Even murder.”
Adam nodded thoughtfully. “All right. I’ll take a sample of the blood and send it off to the lab. If they find that it is Rick’s, though, we’ll be obligated to call in the local authorities, not to mention my team.”
“I understand, and CeCe and the Wilkinsons will have to understand too.”
He nodded and stood. “Why don’t you show me around and then take me to the painting? We’ve got some serious work to do.”
Margot nodded her agreement, a subtle feeling of peace washing over her at the reality that she was no longer alone. She’d always had CeCe, but her friend was hurting as well as inexperienced in investigation. With Adam there, Margot felt certain they could get to the bottom of it all.
Chapter 10
After a long day of making calls, going to the local post office to overnight the blood sample to the lab, and taking a relaxing stroll through the trees where Margot spent the entire time hypothesizing about the case, the two found themselves back at the lodge for dinner.
“I don’t feel like we got anywhere,” she admitted as they wound their way through the tables.
“Just be patient. The extended weekend’s not over yet, there’s still time. I have a feeling we’ll get our big break soon.”
She cocked an eye at his enthusiasm, but she wasn’t so sure she felt it herself. She was scheduled to stay one more day at the resort. One more day to figure everything out. It was impossible. Though she had a feeling the Wilkinsons would gladly let her stay, she wasn’t sure she could leave her shop closed for that long. Not to mention the fact that she missed getting her fingers in the dough and being covered in flour all the time.
She thought of her assistant Dexter Ross and how he’d taken a leave of absence. She wondered how he was doing and when he would be able to come back. She often worried about him, knowing the circumstances that led to him leaving were vague and a little frightening to say the least, but Adam assured her that he was all right and that she shouldn’t worry. Something easier said than done.
Margot Durand Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6 Page 16
