The Inn at Holiday Bay: Message in the Mantel

by Kathi Daley

  Was it what I wanted? I wasn’t sure. I was just beginning to rebuild my life, so the last thing I needed was something from my past pulling me down. “If you hear something, let me know. Having said that, I guess we might want to take a break from actively digging into things. I think we both know that could take us down a road we don’t want to travel.”

  Chapter 20

  Over the course of the next week, Colt was able to determine that the remains found in the national park did, indeed, belong to Natalie Norris and the knife found in the safety-deposit box was most likely the murder weapon. Now that we suspected the prints on the knife might belong to Grange Highlander, Colt had people actively looking for his prints to match them to. I suggested that a sibling might have an item from Highlander’s youth that had his prints and Colt was following up on that idea.

  Colt had also had a nice, long chat with Desmond Green. After he’d completed the interview, he was pretty much of the mind that Green had not been the one to poison Palmer. The idea that someone had been slowly poisoning the guy just didn’t make sense when you took into account that no one other than the meal service folks had been seen going into the house during the time when the poisoning had to have occurred. It was while I was pondering this point that something occurred to me. I thought about calling Colt with my theory, then decided to drive into town to speak to him in person.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Colt said when I barged into his office.

  “Why now?” I asked. “Assuming we are correct in our theory that Highlander killed Natalie and then Palmer killed Highlander and hid both bodies, why after all these years did Palmer change his will?”

  “We discussed this. We figured that he knew he was getting on in years and wanted to leave clues to what occurred behind.”

  I sat down on the chair across from Colt’s desk. “True. But what if Palmer had a more specific reason for getting his affairs in order at exactly the time he did. What if he knew he was going to die?”

  “You think he was terminally ill?” Colt asked.

  “He might have been, but that probably would have shown up in the autopsy. I was thinking more along the lines of suicide.”

  Colt frowned. “Slowly poisoning yourself seems like an agonizing way to go.”

  “Maybe, but what if he wasn’t completely committed? What if he found he could no longer live with the things he’d been living with his entire life yet still wasn’t a hundred percent ready to let go. Maybe he knew about poisoning by antifreeze and decided to try just a bit. Yes, it made him sick, but maybe he preferred that to taking a definitive action such as shooting himself in the head. So after a bit he tried a little more, and he found that he was slowly coming to grips with his decision. Maybe at that point he took a final dose and ended it all.”

  “Seems like a long shot.”

  “Maybe, but from what you have managed to find out at this point, the only people who could have poisoned Palmer were the food service people, Desmond Green, or Palmer himself. No one else was seen entering or leaving the property. Unless…”

  “Unless?” Colt asked.

  My eyes grew larger as an idea occurred to me. “You tested all the food and medicine left in the house for ethylene glycol. What about the water?”

  “Water?”

  “The first time we went to see the house, I noticed that Palmer had a water cooler. Desmond Green mentioned it too. He said that Palmer was paranoid that the town’s water supply was tainted, so he paid for bottled water.”

  Colt shook his head. “I remember the water cooler from the first time we were there now that you mention it. There was water on the floor from a spill. The water cooler was gone the next time I went back. I’m sure of it, although it didn’t register that it was missing. Do you happen to remember which company the water came from?”

  I shook my head. “It was a basic blue plastic. The base unit was white. I don’t remember anything specific that would tell us which company serviced Palmer’s house, but I bet the food service guys would know. Between the two of them, they were in that kitchen almost every day.”

  “I’ll call Dotty to see if she knows. Although I’m not sure if we will be able to prove the water was tainted if we don’t have it.”

  “The plants. When I went by the house to let the inspector in, I noticed the plants in Desmond Green’s planter box were blooming, but the ones in Palmer’s weren’t. I mentioned it to Green, who told me that Palmer’s plants died all of a sudden and Palmer didn’t know why. That’s when he mentioned that Palmer had been watering them with bottled water because he suspected the public supply was tainted.” My eyes grew even larger. “Highlander’s brother. You mentioned that he owned a bottled water distributorship in Portland.”

  Colt smiled. “By gum, I think you just solved this murder, Ms. Sherlock.”

  Chapter 21

  As I’d hoped, March had gone out like a lamb. In fact, April was turning out to be downright perfect. When Ben was alive, he’d solved a lot of cases, but I didn’t remember him stopping to celebrate any of his victories. I, however, decided that a celebration was exactly what we needed. The demo on the third story was complete, Bobby had finished the mantel and the crown molding on the first floor, and Lacy had finished the dining table and chairs she’d been refinishing for me, so I decided to set that table and chairs up in the dining room of the newly remodeled first floor and invite all my friends to an inaugural dinner. Georgia had been cooking for days and the two of us spent the entire morning setting the table with the plates, bowls, and serving pieces we’d been slowly gathering. In a word, the table looked fantastic.

  As I looked at the huge dining table Lacy had so lovingly refinished, I thought about the generations of people who had feasted at this very table. I thought about the brevity of life but the permanence of that we leave behind. I thought of the individual who first built the table and wondered if it had occurred to him that someone would stop to think about him centuries later.

  I straightened the flowers in the centerpiece one last time, then headed to my brand-new kitchen to put the finishing touches on the sides. Today meant so much to me in so many ways. Not only had it served as a reminder of the past but as a beacon to the fresh start and new life I’d been working toward.

  “I heard you and Colt solved Bruce Palmer’s murder,” Velma said, when she wandered into the kitchen in search of a beverage.

  “We did.” I handed Velma a glass of iced tea. “It was a complicated case with a lot of moving parts, but it turned out that the brother of the skeleton in the trunk was covering for one of his employees, who called in sick at the last minute and noticed that Palmer had a Saint Christopher medal hanging on his wall when he went by to change out his water. The medal looked exactly like the one his older brother wore, so he took a closer look. On the back were his grandfather’s initials. It seems the medal had been passed down from his grandfather to his father to Grange. Once he realized it was the same one, he went back to the house when Palmer wasn’t home for a closer look. Eventually, he found the trunk in the attic. He put two and two together and realized that Palmer must have been the one to kill his brother, so he decided to treat him to a long and painful death.”

  “Why would Bruce keep the medal of the man he killed hanging on his wall?”

  “Why would he keep the remains of the man he killed in a trunk in his attic?” I countered.

  “Good point. I suppose he may have wanted a reminder for some reason. Perhaps he felt bad about what he did and wanted to find a way to repent?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. It does seem that in the end he appeared to want both Grange Highlander and Natalie Norris to be found, but I still have no idea why he went about things the way he did. It seems that simply leaving a note to be read upon his death would have been more direct.”

  “I guess you are right that Bruce’s reasoning died with him. You need me to start taking the food out?”

&n
bsp; I nodded. “That would be great. Georgia went just a tiny bit overboard. We’ll be sending everyone home with doggie bags.”

  “That girl can cook, so you know I’ll be taking my share.”

  Velma left with the first batch of food, and I took the fruit salad out of the refrigerator. Georgia had cut the fruit into shapes, making it too pretty to eat, in my opinion. She always went the extra mile. That was one of the things that made her so special.

  “Wow, that looks amazing,” Lacy said, as she walked up behind me and gave me a hug.

  “I would have diced it and been done with it, but Georgia is an artist.”

  “It is gorgeous, but I bet it is yummy as well. Everything looks so perfect.”

  “Including the lovely table you brought back to life. I know I’ve already thanked you, but I want to thank you again. It’s gorgeous.”

  Lacy blushed. “I was happy to have the chance to work with such a wonderful piece of history. I feel like the table shared its stories with me with each caress of the sandpaper and stroke of the brush.”

  I hugged Lacy again. “The fact that you love your work comes through in every piece you work on. You have a unique talent, my friend.”

  “Thanks. Although my talent is nothing compared to Bobby’s. Every time I look at that mantel I want to cry, it is just so awe-inspiring.”

  “He really did do a wonderful job. I’m so grateful Lonnie recommended him. Knowing what I do now, I would have felt awful if I hadn’t given it the care it deserved.”

  “Did you find a home for the necklace you found inside?” Lacy asked as she pitched in and tossed dressing onto the green salad.

  “I’m speaking to administrators from several museums. I want to be sure I find the perfect fit. And given the value of the necklace, I want to be sure it ends up somewhere with a good security system.”

  Lacy picked up the salad bowl. “That will be a consideration. It really is a gorgeous piece, even without the historical significance.”

  Lacy was right. All those diamonds lit up a room if the sun hit it just right. A small local museum would never do. I’d need to find somewhere high-tech to house it. “By the way, I meant to ask how Olivia is doing with the kids.” The kittens had been weaned and rehomed, and Olivia had gone home with Lonnie just over a week ago.

  “She is working out so well,” Lacy answered. “The kids love her and she loves the kids. Sadie even seems happy to have another animal in the house. I’m not sure why we didn’t think of adding a cat to the family earlier.”

  “I guess you were just waiting for Olivia.”

  Lacy smiled. “I guess we were at that.” She picked up the salad bowl. “I’ll take this out, then come back to help you with the rest.”

  After Lacy went out with the salad, I glanced out the window to see Colt, Tanner, and Lonnie standing in the yard, perhaps talking design plans that were already beginning to take shape as the landscaper installed the hardscape and roped off the flowerbeds. I couldn’t wait to see how everything came together. The interior of the house had turned out better than I could ever have anticipated and I hoped the yard would as well. Deciding to grab a few minutes of sunshine, I went out to join the men.

  “So what are we discussing?” I asked after joining the group.

  “We were talking about the remodel,” Lonnie answered. “Now that we are into the third story, it really is time for you to get the attic cleaned out.”

  “I’ll get started on it next week,” I promised. “There is just so much up there that it seems like an overwhelming task, so I’ve been putting it off. I do want to take the time to go through everything carefully, however. You never know when you just might find a treasure waiting to be discovered.”

  “With your luck, there is probably an original Rembrandt up there,” Tanner joked.

  It did seem that, over the course of the past five months, I’d uncovered a lot of secrets the house had been waiting for someone to find. The more I’d learned about the rich history of the place, the more excited I was to peel back the layers and take a peek into the past. I doubted I’d find a Rembrandt in the attic as Tanner had suggested, but perhaps old letters, or photographs, or even a diary.

  Up Next from Kathi Daley Books

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  Harlow Hathaway paused after opening the front door to the farmhouse where she’d grown up. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and—she took in a deep breath—ginger. Dixie must have made her spice pancakes for breakfast. Based on the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen, it seemed she wasn’t the only Hathaway sister whose intuition had sent them home for breakfast this morning. Harlow smiled as she let the perfection of the moment warm her heart. Of all the Hathaway sisters, she was by far the most sentimental, and she figured she was the one who most cherished these impromptu family meals.

  Dixie winked at Harlow as she entered the room. Harlow smiled in return. Beneath the throwback-to-the-sixties, hippie vibe Dixie presented to the world, she was as sentimental a soul as her second-youngest granddaughter. She opened her arms in greeting, her long, white braid dipping over the shoulder of her sunny yellow peasant top. “I was wondering if my pancakes would bring you by.”

  Harlow stepped in for a hug that was even better than the pancakes. “Of course. You know that I can always sense when you make spice pancakes with warm fruit compote and freshly whipped cream.”

  “You have to try the boysenberry,” Harper, the second oldest of the five Hathaway sisters, said from the chair that had always been hers at the huge farmhouse table. “I was only going to have a bite, but so far I’ve eaten four pancakes.”

  Harlow paused to take a peek at Bella, the three-month-old Harper was in the process of adopting. She was asleep in her infant seat, but Harlow knew it wouldn’t be long before there were four generations of Hathaways eating pancakes at the family table.

  “Personally, the apple is my favorite,” Haven, the youngest of the five and the only sister with blond hair rather than brown, countered. “Although these fresh strawberries from the hothouse are pretty darn good.”

  Harlow sat down at the table in the chair that had always been hers, next to her middle sister, Haley. “I guess I’ll need to try one of each flavor, although peach and apricot are my favorites.”

  “I hope we get apricots from the trees this year,” Haven commented. “I’ve been thinking about making jam.”

  “As long as we don’t get a late frost, we should get some fruit,” Dixie answered. She looked at Harlow. “How is the garden at the bookstore coming along?”

  “It’s too early to plant, but I have things cleaned up and ready to go once the threat of frost has passed completely. In the meantime, I’ve been keeping busy.” She turned to Harper. “Are you still coming by this afternoon to help me sort through the new inventory?”

  Harper was currently unemployed, after having recently moved home to Moosehead, Minnesota, after more than a decade away. She was currently living at the family farmhouse and helping out at the bookstore in her spare time. Harlow loved hanging out with her older sister and her dog, Maggie, loved playing with Harper’s dog, Bosley.

  “I am planning to come by for a few hours. Michael is going to spend some time with Bella, so I’m free the whole afternoon.” Michael Maddox was Harper’s significant other and soon-to-be, Harlow suspected, Bella’s daddy.

  “You have new inventory?” Haley asked.

  Harlow took a bite of the delicious pancake and nodded. “Coop and I went to an estate sale this past weekend,” she said, referring to her best friend, Cooper Callaway. “We managed to buy forty large boxes of books from the library of the man who died. Some of the books are trade paperbacks, which I’ll set out on the dollar table, but I came across a first edition of The Great Gatsby in one of the boxes, which made me realize I really needed to take my time to sort through everything rather than dumping the whole lot on the used-books table. Coop helped me get started last night, but I still have hal
f of the boxes to sort through.”

  “Wow, a first edition of The Great Gatsby is quite a find,” Dixie commented.

  Harlow grinned. “I thought so. But The Great Gatsby isn’t even my best find to date.”

  Haley raised a brow. “Okay. I’m hooked. What has been your best find to date?”

  “Signed copies of every single book ever written by my favorite author of all time, Alistair Winslow.”

  Harper whistled. “That is a find. Alistair Winslow is a total recluse and never does book signings. Most readers don’t even believe he is an actual person. How on earth did the man whose books you purchased manage to end up with a signed copy of every book written by a man most consider to be nothing more than a ghost?”

  Harlow shrugged. “I have no idea, but from the personalized messages, I suspect Winslow and the man who owned the estate were friends. I guess I’ve never stopped to consider the idea that Alistair Winslow might have friends. As far as I know, there isn’t a single person on earth who knows who he really is. It’s rumored that even his agent only communicates with him via email.”

  “Are you sure the signatures are authentic?” Haley asked.

  Harlow frowned. “Actually, no. But I hope they are.”

  “What sort of message did he write in the books?” Haven asked. “Did he just sign his name, or were there personal messages?”

  “Personal messages,” Harlow answered. “And they are specific.”

  “Specific?” Haley asked.

  “There are mentions of ‘their time at the lake’ and ‘the gang on Baker Street.’ He mentions someone named Dora, and how one of the characters in the book is loosely based on her. One of the messages referred to Art’s Place, and another said something about ‘Tessa’s cookies being used for bait.’ Things like that. I really think that Alistair Winslow and the man must have been lifelong friends.”