by Dixie Davis
Maybe she could start with the general session of the convention that morning. “Terrible news today, isn’t it?”
So much for subtlety.
Tom furrowed his brow. “I haven’t seen the news today.”
“About the innkeeper who died?” Lori decided to give him the tiniest nudge along the right path.
Tom shook his head slowly. “Sorry, haven’t heard anything about that.”
“Really? That’s strange. Seems like everybody else here has.” Unfortunately.
Tom glanced around the room. “Word travels fast, I guess.”
Lori nodded, following Tom’s gaze. How did all these people go on when one of their own had been killed less than twelve hours ago? How did Lori go on? She must have shut down the emotional side of her brain — or maybe she’d realized the only way she could handle his death was by doing something about it.
Protecting Vera.
And that meant interrogating Tom, even if he was the only one here who didn’t know about Howard’s death. “It didn’t seem like you and Howard got along,” Lori said, as delicately as she could. “Any reason for that?”
“Professional disagreement.” Tom shrugged.
She had a hard time believing Howard couldn’t disagree with someone without public arguments.
Then again, wasn’t that how he disagreed with even his wife? It had only been this morning that she’d seen him “disagreeing.”
“What about?” Lori nodded at the brochure. “Your rates?”
“No, nothing like that,” Tom rushed to reassure her. “He found another service he liked better, I tried to convince him otherwise, he didn’t appreciate it.”
“‘Convince him’ how?”
“You know.” He shrugged. “The usual: sales pitches, graphics, presentations, that sort of thing. Not that any of it mattered. He’d already made up his mind to break our contract.”
“He did what?”
Tom rolled his eyes. “We had a year contract and he broke it after seven months. I guess that was really where the disagreement part started. I wanted him to pay the rest of the contract, like it says in the terms. He refused.”
Was that sufficient motive for murder? Lori tamped down on the excitement of solving the case rising in her chest. “How much money were you out?”
“The early termination clause says fifteen hundred dollars.”
Seemed pretty low to kill someone over — and most people didn’t respond to breach of contract with blunt force trauma. They brought suit. “Did you go to court?”
“I threatened, but in the end, I didn’t feel like it’d be worth my time this time around.”
Lori nodded slowly, pretending to study the brochure again. She had to at least try to make it look like she wasn’t just interrogating him.
“It’s not like I was the only person Howard had a hard time getting along with,” Tom volunteered.
Lori looked up. She hadn’t prompted that. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you see how he yelled at some other guy yesterday? Couple years ago, the two of them almost got in a fist fight on the exhibit hall floor.”
“Really?” Could he mean Karl or Clint? Lori tried to remember how Howard had treated them. He hadn’t yelled at Karl, not really. And it seemed more like he was tired of Clint’s pestering than he wanted to deck the guy. He didn’t yell at Clint until the man knocked her down.
Although that was an accident. The yelling seemed like an overreaction even at the time.
What had Vera and Howard said about him this morning? He could tell something about them to hurt them.
And Clint was staying right in Dusky Cove.
“Have you seen that guy around today?”
“Clint Cooper?” Tom shook his head. “They announced his classes were canceled today.”
Lori’s lungs flinched. She’d followed the wrong lead, and she’d wasted so much time doing it. She had to get out of here — but best not to raise Tom’s suspicions. “I’d better get back to my guests.” She held up the brochure. “Mind if I take this?”
“Sure. Take this too.” He offered a business card. Lori accepted it. She suddenly remembered Howard’s elegant, silver business card holder. She’d have to ask Vera where she’d gotten it — and where it was now. The crime scene techs hadn’t found anything in his pockets, and she hadn’t seen it on his dresser.
Lori waved goodbye to Tom and hurried out.
When Lori walked up the steps to her white inn with its double-decker porches forty-five minutes later, the sounds of laughter reached her ears. She hurried inside to find Mitch and Vera on the ugly sofa laughing at something so hard that Vera was wiping tears.
Lori tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy. She was happy Vera could find a reason to laugh today. She was happy Mitch had helped her.
She definitely wasn’t jealous that she hadn’t been the one to make Vera happy or the one to spend the afternoon with Mitch.
“What mischief have you two been up to?” Lori asked over their laughter.
Mitch looked up. “Vera was just telling me about an incident with the towels at their inn.”
“Not Towelgate?” Lori shoved aside another twinge of jealousy.
Vera nodded, still too merry to talk.
“I can’t wait to hear about it then.”
“Definitely.” Vera took a deep breath and then another. “How do you miss a man like that, though?”
Lori sat in the green armchair closer to Vera. “How long were you married?”
“Forty-three years.” She sighed, all traces of laughter fading from her eyes and her weary face.
“Of course you had bad times in forty-three years. Of course he drove you insane — a lot — in forty-three years. It would be weird if he didn’t. But you can choose to remember the positives more, and to laugh at the negatives whenever possible.”
Vera nodded, contemplating her words. “Thank you, sweetie. I just wish I could get home to Peggy. I need to be with her. I just can’t drive there myself, especially not after dark.”
Mitch and Lori shared a glance. Lori couldn’t leave her guests, and she could hardly ask Mitch to drop everything and drive Vera home.
They’d have to do the best they could right now and get her off first thing in the morning. Lori patted Vera’s arm. She wanted to work on clearing her name more, but first she had to take care of Vera. “Can I make you something to eat?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Something sweet?”
Vera pressed back a smile. “All right.”
Lori knew just what to make — a recipe she’d been saving to enjoy by herself some night when she didn’t have any guests.
Or maybe she’d been saving it to share with someone in particular on a special date, but that hadn’t happened yet.
Lori grabbed her largest mugs and the printed recipe from its hiding place in her cookbook collection. Then she gathered her baking ingredients: flour, cornstarch, brown sugar, cocoa powder, salt, eggs, vegetable oil, vanilla, milk. It was strange to measure everything in such small amounts — nothing was more than a quarter cup in each mug. In just a few minutes, she had three mugs of dark brown sludge.
Suddenly this didn’t seem like a good idea. Could you really microwave a cake?
Well, if it didn’t work, at least she’d only wasted a few minutes. She always had her frozen cookie dough.
Lori put the first mug in the microwave and pressed the buttons to bake it for three minutes. While it baked, she checked the dough in the freezer and spotted a carton of vanilla ice cream. That might be a good way to salvage the cake, too.
She brought the ice cream back to the microwave just as the timer went off. The chocolate sludge had grown into a soufflé that almost reached the top of the mug — but it fell quickly when she took it out. The recipe said to expect that.
Lori grabbed a fork. She just couldn’t serve Vera something that might be terrible. She scooped a small sample from the
edge.
The cake was softer and a bit squishier than the normal oven-baked standard, but the rich chocolate flavor made up for anything it lacked in texture. With the smooth, sweet ice cream, it would be perfect.
The mug, however, was too hot to hold. Lori grabbed a small plate and upended the mug onto it, then scooped the ice cream on top.
She put another mug in the microwave and brought the finished sundae out to Vera.
“Here you go.”
Vera did a double take and accepted the plate. “How did you make this so fast?”
“Have some and then I’ll reveal all my secrets.”
“I’m in for that,” Mitch joked. Lori sent him a raised eyebrow.
“Yours is cooking, mister.”
“Really?” He perked up. “I meant revealing your secrets, but I’ll take the cake.”
“You definitely do that,” Lori muttered.
Vera sighed and lowered her untouched plate. “You two remind me of how Howard and I used to talk.”
Mitch’s eyes grew wide. “We’re not —”
Vera waved him off. “Never mind me. I’ll fill my mouth.” She took a bite and her eyes closed as she enjoyed the warm, deep chocolate flavor.
Lori’s mouth was watering in anticipation of her own sundae. She hurried back to the kitchen to fix Mitch’s and start hers cooking.
“All right,” Mitch said as he accepted the plate. “We’re waiting for all your secrets. Or we might have to report you to the police for witchcraft.”
“I made them in the microwave. And I’m not sure you’d call Chief Branson to save your life.”
Mitch pointed at her with his spoon as if to say she’d hit the nail on the head. But he couldn’t say anything else because his mouth was full.
Vera savored her dessert and Lori fixed her own sundae. By the time she returned, Vera was finished, staring at her empty plate on the coffee table.
“It’s gone,” she said, her voice mournful. Obviously she meant much more than her cake.
Lori set her own sundae down and wrapped her arms around her friend. And she didn’t even care a little bit that her ice cream was melted before she got to it.
Once Vera said she was all right, Lori held her at arm’s length, still sitting on their floral couch. “I still want to find who did this.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“I talked to Karl at InnCon. It would have been hard for him to make it to InnCon when he said he got there, unless he was speeding away from here.” But she’d neglected to ask if anyone had seen him. He’d said he was almost the first person, so he must have seen someone else, right?
Lori moved on to the next suspect. “I also saw Tom at InnCon. He’s staying in Wilmington too.” She realized she’d never asked him for a specific alibi for this morning, but that was because she realized everything pointed to Clint.
Vera’s shoulders lowered. “I don’t want to think anyone we worked with could be capable of something like this.”
And that was part of the information that she’d learned from Tom — Howard and Clint’s history of violence. “I heard that Howard and Clint got in a fight at InnCon two years ago. Is that true?”
Vera cringed. “It was an argument, but yes. It was ugly.”
“Do you think Clint could have done this?”
Vera shook her head slowly. “I don’t know why he would have. But I don’t know who else could have.”
“Clint wasn’t at the conference today, either. I’m going to try to track him down here in town. Okay?”
Vera nodded.
Mitch caught Lori’s eye as she stood, and she smiled her thanks.
“Why don’t I go get my computer,” Mitch said, “and we’ll look for wallpapers?”
“All right.”
Lori headed back to her office and found Beth’s handwritten phone directory still hanging on the wall. Half the numbers were crossed through, but the Blue Heron was still listed. Lori dialed the number and waited.
“The Blue Heron, George speaking.”
Should she approach him as an innkeeper or just somebody trying to talk to one of his guests?
Probably the latter. While she might be able to build on innkeeper rapport, it was simpler to just ask. Besides, it wasn’t untrue that she was just a person looking for Clint, after all. “Hi, George. I’m trying to reach Clint Cooper, but I’ve lost his number.”
“We don’t have anyone here by that name, sorry.”
“Thanks anyway.” She hung up. The Cape Inn was the only other B&B in town. Unless he was staying at the Riverboat with Walt?
She had better check. She dialed Walt’s number, but there was no reason for pretense with him. “Hi, Walt,” she said when he answered. “It’s Lori. Do you have a Clint staying here?”
“Nope, still no Clint. You want to ask again in a few more hours, see if it changes?”
“Will it change?”
“Probably not.”
So much for Walt’s help. Lori looked up the number to the Cape Inn. She didn’t know the innkeeper there well, but really, she was just looking for Clint to talk to him. When the innkeeper, Sara, answered, Lori asked for Clint’s room.
“Yeah, let me put you right through.”
Lori sighed in relief. She’d found him.
But now she was going to have to talk to a killer.
“Hello?” he answered, his voice full of caution.
“Hi, Clint, this is Lori. I’m —” She paused. Did she admit she was a friend of Howard’s right up front? Did he remember her name from yesterday?
“You’re the Bughs’ innkeeper friend in town,” he finished, making the decision for her.
“Yes.” If he hadn’t gone to the convention today, could he already know about Howard? She had to keep her options open, just in case he hadn’t. Better to keep this conversation as neutral as possible. “I was wondering if we could meet and talk.” Somewhere safe. Public. But without looking like she was afraid of him. “Maybe over dinner?”
“Uh, listen, I’m flattered, but I’m married.”
Wait, what? “Sorry, I meant a business dinner? Since I missed your new innkeeper training. I’ve only been at this six months.”
“Oh — right. Uh, I guess. Are you in Wilmington now?”
“No, I’m at my inn. Why don’t you come on down to the Salty Dog — it’s a restaurant by the marina.”
“Give me half an hour.”
Lori checked the time: how was it only five o’clock? “Sure thing.”
She hung up and counted that as a minor victory. Half an hour might give Clint time to come up with an alibi or get rid of evidence — but if he was going to do either of those things, he probably already had.
Lori joined her friends in the parlor again, trying not to appear too nervous about her not-date with a murderer. “How goes the wallpaper hunt?” she asked.
Mitch looked up from his laptop, grinning. “Pretty well. Come take a look at what Vera found.”
Lori rounded the couch and leaned over the back of the sofa to see the screen. The display showed a yellow print with scrolling oak leaves on a white background. “Wow,” she murmured. She couldn’t say it was an exact match, but it was so close that hardly mattered.
“I love it,” Lori concluded. “Just need to figure out how much we need. How’d you find it?”
“It’s a wallpaper company that does historical replicas. My favorite,” Vera said. She sounded . . . drained.
That was only understandable. Lori turned to her. “Do you need anything?”
“Howard. Peggy.” She sighed. “Peace.”
Lori took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “When I need peace, I like to listen to the river.”
Vera nodded. “That sounds nice.” She gingerly hauled herself to her feet, as if she was afraid that one wrong move might break her beyond repair. “Thank you both so much for being with me today — but . . . I think I’d like some time alone.”
Lori’s min
d raced. There had to be something more she could do. “I’m heading to dinner at the Salty Dog. It’s not too far from the Salt Marsh Boardwalk.”
Vera raised an eyebrow, questioning.
“It’s a boardwalk through the marsh. Great views of the river — very peaceful in the off-season.” And she’d have an hour of daylight left to enjoy the sounds of nature, the river, the birds, the reeds. Aside from her own porch, the Boardwalk was one of Lori’s favorite places in Dusky Cove.
“That sounds nice. Give me a few minutes to get my shoes?”
So much for her powers of observation. Lori hadn’t even noticed she’d been in her stocking feet all this time. “Of course.”
Even with waiting for Vera to get her shoes and walking to the far end of Front Street, to the wooden gazebo where the Salt Marsh Boardwalk began, Lori was twenty minutes early for her meeting with Clint. She offered to walk with Vera for a little while, but judging by her drawn expression and slumped posture, Vera just needed some time alone. Lori left her friend to find her needed peace and arrived early for her dinner appointment at the Salty Dog, just across a gravel parking lot from the Boardwalk’s entrance.
Lori pretended not to notice the stares in her direction. But, of course, the town rumor mill must have been grinding hard all day, since another of her guests had died.
Whether the rumor mill knew it or not, Lori was definitely in the clear. Across the restaurant, her guests — and alibi — the Johnstons dined. They spotted her and waved her over to join them, but she just smiled and shook her head. Vera wasn’t the only one who could use a little quiet.
One of the best things about living in a town this small was knowing pretty much everyone here. Aside from the Johnstons, she’d come to know the entire staff of the Salty Dog, and most of the diners here tonight: Eddie and Ken, the two police officers laughing over iced teas; Heidi and Beth, the former owner of the Mayweather House, pretending to squabble over a sundae with their husbands; Andrea from the museum, Curtis from the newspaper, and their son Marcus, who was scarfing down French fries like it was his first meal in a week; the minister of a church she didn’t attend; her favorite Food Lion checker; and four members of her congregation. Small-town living at its finest.
