by Dixie Davis
“Hanging in there, but I wanted to follow up on our last conversation.”
What was their last conversation about? Travis ordering the gifts for Dawn. Extreme measures. “Did you remember something else?”
“No, but Katie did.” He chuckled a little. “Frail all these years and she’s still got better ears, eyes and memory than me.”
Lori would have to get to know this woman — as soon as this mess was behind her. “What did Katie remember?”
A beat of silence passed on the line. “Katie and I definitely saw him leaving the inn. Katie’s sure it was sometime in the morning.”
“What day?”
“The day before she died.”
She tried to replay the day before Dawn died in her mind. Had Lori been around the inn all day?
No, she’d gone to the grocery store. Joey had been around, but he didn’t seem to recognize Travis after the murder. The guy could have snuck through the parlor if Joey was in the office working on paperwork, though.
And hadn’t Travis told her he’d gotten in late the night before the murder? And she’d caught Travis sneaking around outside the office when the police were there.
If he’d been in the inn before and after the murder, he could have done everything to set her up. For the first time, a light shone at the end of the tunnel. Someone believed her, and he finally had some evidence to back it up. “Ray, can you do me a favor?”
“Anything, missy.”
“Can you call the police and tell them everything you’ve told me? The presents, extreme measures, seeing him leave the inn, the whole nine yards.”
Ray laughed. “Surely can, Miss Lori.”
Joey walked into the office, talking on his cell phone. “And that’s it? . . . Thanks, man.”
“I’d better go,” Lori told Ray. “Thank you!”
Joey gestured at the computer, like he wanted a crack at the machine. Lori closed her email program and yielded her seat. Joey clicked around, still on the phone. Lori didn’t quite follow what he did, but after a minute, he held out a ta-da hand aimed at the clock in the corner of the screen. It showed the right date.
“Thank you!” Lori mouthed.
Just like that, things finally seemed to be falling into place. Joey finished his phone call and looked to Lori.
“Are we ready for our next guests?” she asked. “I think we’ve got a couple rooms to prepare.”
The Thursday edition of the Dusky Chronicle arrived at the Mayweather House with the best bad news Lori had seen in weeks: Travis Vogel had been arrested for his wife’s murder.
The article fell short of exonerating Lori, but only mentioned her arrest in passing. She’d definitely take it.
The rooms were ready for her guests arriving that day, including a few small updates. Suddenly, the inn seemed brighter and airier, though this time Lori didn’t think that had much to do with her small changes in the rooms.
No, it had to have more to do with the fact that she finally felt free for the first time.
The Townsends had checked out that morning, leaving Lori with a few free hours. Enough time to head to Wilmington to shop for a wedding dress. Something simple, appropriate for her age. Cream or maybe a very light gray?
Honestly, the shopping prospects weren’t promising, but she might be able to spend half a day shopping in Myrtle Beach if Wilmington didn’t have what she needed.
“You sure you’re okay with me going?” Lori asked Joey for about the fourth time.
Joey stacked the last of the clean breakfast dishes on the rack. “Of course. The biggest worry right now is that I’ll get bored.”
He grabbed the last clean serving dish and set it on the rack — the blue one she’d used for that zucchini bread.
Lori tried to push the thought away, but it still nagged at her: how had that poison gotten into her food?
But did it matter? The police had caught Travis and their evidence would convict him.
She took a deep breath and braced herself for the coming onslaught of shopping. Unless there was something that might keep her here? She turned to Joey. “Okay, you’ve got my number.”
Joey barely suppressed an amused smile. “Yes. I’ll call if anything blows up.”
Lori swatted his arm and headed out.
But she didn’t get far. She’d reached the front door when the doorbell rang.
Kim Yates — the owner of the Mimosa Café who’d practically, personally powered the gossip mill against Lori — stood on the porch. “Oh,” Lori said. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Kim wrung her hands, looking away. “Listen, I saw the paper this morning, and I . . . I wanted to apologize.”
Lori couldn’t help but draw in a tiny, audible breath. A gossip with a conscience?
“I . . . should have talked to you first.”
“Thank you.”
Kim nodded, her eyes still focused off toward the side yard. “And to make it up to you, I wanted to offer you a discount on catering your wedding. I heard it was coming up.”
Surprise, surprise. Lori chided herself for her sarcasm, even if Kim was the reigning gossip queen of Dusky Cove, and smiled at her. “That would be wonderful. We’re planning on holding it on the twelfth.”
Kim startled a little, but recovered quickly. “Yeah, I’m not booked for catering that day. Should I send you a quote?”
“That would be great. I’ll get all the information to you. Thank you!”
Now the day seemed perfect. Exactly what she needed before going to humiliate herself in front of half the dressing room mirrors in the greater Wilmington area.
Lori had only made it off the porch when she spied two more people coming toward her — Val of Salt Water Bakes and Andrea of the museum. “Hey, Lori!” Val called.
Lori lifted her hand, and Val and Andrea headed for her. “Guessing you saw the news?” Lori asked.
“Girl, yes,” Andrea said, beaming so hard her beaded braids bounced. “Always knew you didn’t do it.”
She was one of the very few who could actually say that with sincerity.
Val held up a small white box. “I had an idea for your cake,” she said. “Since you two asked about chocolate and carrot cake, I wanted to see how they worked together as alternating layers in the same tier. The frosting is buttercream, but we could do something else, too — fondant, meringue, whatever.”
Lori accepted the box. “Thank you! We’ll let you know.”
Andrea held up a gift bag as well. “You mentioned you were updating the rooms and Bald Head was giving you trouble.”
Lori accepted the bag, too, and peeked inside to find a model of Old Baldy, the Bald Head Island lighthouse. She shifted her packages around to pull it out. About eight inches tall, the model captured the octagonal shape and the mottled gray stucco of the real lighthouse perfectly.
“I can’t accept this,” Lori said, “but I’d be happy to buy it from you.”
“Actually, it was a donation.” Andrea waved away the concern. “We just finished an exhibit on the lighthouses of the area, so I’m all set. It’s only taking up space.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Please, take it.”
“If you’re sure . . .”
Andrea nodded, her short braids hitting one another. Lori wasn’t sure if she believed that, but if she refused again, she’d look rude. “Well, thank you! Both of you,” she added with a nod to Val.
“Of course. Have a good day!” Val and Andrea waved and headed back the way they came, or, more likely, back to their shop and the museum.
Well, now she had to go back in. This cake wasn’t going to taste itself, after all. Lori took her gifts back inside. Joey wasn’t in the parlor, so she snagged two forks from the sideboard and headed for the dining room.
No sign of him there, either. “Joey?” she called. She set the packages and the flatware on the table next to the newspaper that had heralded her victory.
Lori opened the box and carefully transferred the tall bu
t tiny cake tier to the plate. White frosting decorated the top and side, sandwiched between the four layers, alternating dark chocolate and rich carrot. She picked up a fork and started to sample her sample.
The cake was perfectly moist, letting the dark chocolate and spiced carrot flavors shine. Joey might not be getting any of this if he didn’t hurry.
Lori’s gaze fell on the newspaper and the headline that had taken two tons of bricks — and possibly twenty or more years in jail — off her shoulders. The headline had told her all she needed to know at first, but now she wanted to know why he’d done it.
The article didn’t give many clues. It did say the arrest was based on a tip — thanks again to Ray — and somewhere the reporter had picked up on Travis and Dawn’s marital struggles.
Of course, there was only so much the police would release before a grand jury returned an indictment. Lori hadn’t even reached that stage.
Lori finished the article and two-thirds of the cake before she stopped to think. Number one, no more cake. Number two, something was missing from the article: Travis hadn’t confessed.
Maybe that was only a Matlock thing too. The evidence was pretty strong against him. He’d know about the poison with his pharmacist background, and he had the opportunity and motive.
If he’d been in the inn, he could have even sent that email from her computer. If he’d snuck into the office, he could have gotten the keys for anything — any room, the storage, the sheds, the kitchen.
All an elaborate frame-up.
The case would be almost airtight if they could prove he’d broken into the office. Joey had been working in the office the day before the murder, when Ray said Travis had been here. If he’d gotten called away, that would give Travis the opportunity he needed. “Joey!” she called.
He strolled into the dining room as she was about to get up to look for him. “Thought you were leaving.”
“I was, but I had to come back in.” She pointed at what was left of the cake.
“You went to Salt Water Bakes? Did you eat that whole thing?”
“No and no.” Only the part that was eaten; there was still some left. “Do you remember when I went to the grocery store the day before Dawn died?”
Joey took a bite of the cake. “Not really. Why?”
“Because I think Travis might have been in the inn then, and that’s how she was poisoned.” And how Lori was framed, but she’d wait to jump to that conclusion out loud. “I ran into him in the private area the day of the murder. Maybe he was retrieving the poison.”
“Hm.” Joey contemplated the question or the cake, or both. “Maybe.”
“Did you see him?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Were you in the office the whole time?”
Joey took another bite, staring out the side windows at the river. “Lori, it’s been a week. I don’t remember every minute.” He took another bite, and Lori waited. “I guess it’s possible. You like this cake?”
Before Lori could speak, Joey answered his own question. “Obviously.”
Lori scowled at him, and he laughed. If that was teasing, it certainly wasn’t fun for her. She shot Joey a warning look, and he shuffled back a step. “I mean, if you’re shopping for a dress —”
“I don’t think I can go shopping today.” Happier words had never been spoken. How could dress shopping all alone be any fun? “I’m just going to look terrible anyway.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joey practically cut her off. “You’ll look beautiful. You’re way too hard on yourself.”
Lori managed a smile, mostly because she wanted to believe him.
Joey changed the subject. “You know, if we’re all set for the next guests, I should really get home and start packing my apartment. Three weeks to go.”
He grinned, and Lori couldn’t stay mad at him. The flutter of butterflies in her stomach was a welcome reminder that she no longer had the bigger worries hanging over her head.
Planning for a wedding was definitely better than planning for a trial.
Joey accepted her kiss goodbye and headed out. Lori put the cake back in the box and stuck it in the fridge, out of sight, out of mind.
Andrea, Val and Kim. She never would’ve expected a gossip with a conscience, but there was a first time for everything. Of course, she hadn’t expected to be attacked by the court of public opinion, with Heidi and Kim at the helm.
Heidi. A cold stab of guilt sliced into her gut. Sure, the woman hadn’t been arrested, but Lori had practically thrown the other woman under the bus with the question about spare keys. It might not have been fully intentional, but the results had to be as hurtful for Heidi as they had been for Lori when she was the victim.
Kim had apologized to Lori. Now Lori needed to do the same for Heidi.
Kim had also come bearing a gift — a discount on food. Gifts, and specifically food, always seemed like the best way to make amends. But Lori wasn’t sure that was possible. Or that she really wanted to make amends with a woman who’d hated her from the moment they’d met.
Still, she needed to be the bigger person. And she could kill two birds with one stone. She could make something she could serve to her guests at breakfast tomorrow.
A little bolt of fear zinged through her at the thought of cooking for guests again. But she’d heated up ham and bacon and eggs yesterday and today without any problems, no upset stomachs, and definitely no more victims. However Travis had gotten the poison into the zucchini bread, the rest of her pantry seemed safe.
Just in case, she’d better make something that didn’t use the same ingredients as the zucchini bread, until she could replace the flour and sugar and salt. Lori headed to the kitchen and grabbed her card file of favorites, flipping through the breakfast recipes until she came across one that would work with what she had on hand: a sweet potato hash.
Definitely not something she’d want to get up at four thirty in the morning to make. The peeling and chopping was a little time consuming — secretly, chopping thick, firm yams was one of Lori’s pet peeves — but it wasn’t so bad compared to dragging herself out of bed early to do the same thing.
She threw the cubed sweet potatoes into a saucepan with a little oil and water, and covered them to let them steam while she chopped up the garlic, onion and peppers. Once the sweet potatoes were tender, she took the lid off and let the water cook out, then added the rest of the veggies to sauté. A little extra butter got things cooking and browning nicely.
Lori turned to the spice rack. She grabbed the salt and pepper shakers from the top, then spun the rack to follow the alphabet down to the Ts. Taco seasoning, tarragon, turmeric.
Wait a minute. “Where did the thyme go?”
Lori heard what she’d said a split second late, and laughed at herself. Either she’d misplaced it — or the police took it as evidence.
Sobered at that thought, Lori grabbed the tarragon. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would work.
The whole meal would work, especially as a go-to for breakfast. If she did the chopping in advance, Lori could easily do the cooking in the morning in time to serve it. Once, she’d served it with fried eggs nestled on top, like with corned beef hash, and her boys — all three of them — had begged her to serve it that way forever after.
Once it was perfectly browned and crispy around the edges of the sweet potatoes, Lori packed most of it into a foil dish to reheat in the morning. She scooped a generous serving into a disposable container, though, and snapped the lid on.
Time to make amends with the devil.
Maybe she should start by not calling her “the devil.”
Though she could probably walk, Lori decided to drive the hash over to Heidi’s antique shop. There wasn’t really much danger of the dish cooling off too much. It was plenty warm outside, and it wasn’t as though Heidi was going to wolf it down the second Lori handed it over. Still, Lori wanted to get this over with as fast as she could.
A spot was open r
ight in front of Heidi’s Heirlooms. Lori got out and stared up at the brick façade. She could do this.
She marched up to the storefront. Through the front windows, she saw Heidi was with a customer.
Lori grabbed the door handle and pulled. A cowbell announced her entry.
“Hello!” Heidi called in her bright customer service voice. “I’ll be right —” Heidi and the customer both turned to her. Heidi’s happy expression fell away. “Oh.”
“Hi.” Lori tried to force a smile onto her face, but it didn’t work. “I can wait.”
“Oh, hi, Lori!” It was worse than Lori had thought. The customer was Emma Townsend. Her guest.
She was going to have to do this in front of her guest? It wasn’t humiliating enough to come to a woman who hated her and admit she’d been wrong. She had to have an audience of the only person in town who’d had a nice stay at her inn. What better way to send Emma off than confronting her nemesis in front of the poor woman?
Lori gripped the container tighter, steeling herself. Lori hadn’t deserved the way Heidi treated her, but Heidi hadn’t deserved what Lori said, or at least implied, either. Heidi might have gossiped and badmouthed Lori and accused her of murder, but Heidi had not actually killed anyone. She didn’t deserve to have people saying that about her behind her back any more than Lori did.
Emma glanced back at Heidi. “I’m going to look around for another minute.” She wandered away, giving them a tiny piece of privacy.
Heidi crossed the distance between them. “What do you want?” she asked in a harsh undertone.
Apparently, she didn’t want Emma to think less of her, either.
“I wanted to apologize,” Lori murmured.
Heidi rolled her eyes. “Trying to guilt me into doing the same?”
“No.” She was here to be the bigger person, right? That would mean dealing with the pettiness that was probably going to continue for a while. “I should have come to you privately about the key, not in front of other people.”
Although, come to think of it, if Heidi was guilty, confronting her privately would have been pretty stupid.
Heidi glared at her. Lori held out the disposable container. With a huff, like accepting a gift was a huge inconvenience, Heidi snatched it away from her. “Stay here.”
