The Inn at Holiday Bay Books 7 - 9

by Kathi Daley

  “I hear we could get up to five feet. It’s a good thing we won’t have guests on the road tomorrow.”

  I hung my coat on the rack. “When I spoke to Colt, he said that we should definitely plan to stay in for the next few days. He has to be out in the storm to patrol, but he has a heavy-duty truck, tire chains, and emergency equipment, so he assured me he will be fine. He offered to pick up anything we might need and drop it off, and I offered to provide food and coffee at any point when he might want to stop by.”

  “Sounds like a fair trade,” Georgia said. “Jeremy and I have discussed the importance of keeping the drive plowed and the walkway between the inn and the cottage free of snow, but we figured the walkways around the property can wait until after the blizzard blows through.”

  “Yes, we discussed the same thing. It seems pointless to worry about all the walkways. It’s not like anyone is going to be out for a stroll anyway. I was going to ask about fuel for the generator.”

  “Jeremy assures me we are all stocked up. In addition to the fuel for the generator, we have plenty of dry firewood for the downstairs fireplace and plenty of food and drink to keep the guests happy.”

  “And are we ready for breakfast?”

  “I’m making pancakes, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, and a fruit salad. None of it needs to be prepped the night before, which will make it easy to get on the table in the morning. I am making ham and navy bean soup for lunch. The beans are already soaking. I also plan to make more corn bread. And for dinner, I am going to do a roast with root vegetables and a salad.”

  “It all sounds perfect. Of course, just talking about all that food has made me hungry.”

  “I have brownies in the oven. I like to keep plenty of treats on hand should someone want a little something with their coffee.” Georgia set her mug on the table in front of her. “How did things go with Dax today?”

  “They went fine. Between being at the police station this morning and turning in early this evening, he was barely around, and when he was around, he was otherwise occupied, so I barely saw him, but perhaps that was a good thing. I don’t know if my attraction to him is due to genuine emotion or if I’ve simply created a fantasy in my mind that was never real. What I do know is that all we can ever be is friends.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “He told me that he plans to move to Italy one day. Maine is my home now. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. Dax is a great guy, a fantastic writer, and very good-looking, but he isn’t for me. If I ever decide I’ve come to a point in my grief where I can move on from my commitment to Ben, it will be with someone who is here. Someone I can build a life with.”

  “I get that. Dax seems great, but I don’t get the settling-down vibe from him at all. In fact, he shared his plans to go to Spain this spring and Australia in the fall with me.”

  “He is most definitely getting some mileage out of his Jake Cane series.”

  “That’s the series he writes about an international spy?” Georgia clarified. “I heard him talking to Larry about the fun he has had with the research for the series. Maybe you should do a series about someone who travels to exotic places so you can take trips you can write off,” Georgia suggested.

  “Sometimes I do toy with the idea, but in the end, I’m a homebody at heart. I love being here with my friends and my guests. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

  Georgia looked toward the kitchen. “Brownies are done. Do you want one with some milk?”

  “I do. But just a small one. I feel like I’ve been nibbling all day.” I looked around the room. “Have you seen Rufus?”

  “He is sleeping on your bed. I don’t think he is a fan of the snow and wind.”

  “I hope he feels okay. It seems like he has been sleeping every time I’ve seen him the past two days.”

  Georgia took the brownies out of the oven and set them on the cooling rack. “Now that you say that, it does seem as if he has been sleeping a lot more than usual. And he never did eat his breakfast. It is still in his bowl.”

  “I’m going to get him up and see if I can get him to eat something. If I can’t, I’m going to call the vet in the morning. Rufus’s lethargy might just be due to the cold, but it is actually nice and cozy in here. It isn’t at all like him not to want to be out in the middle of things.”

  I brought Rufus out into the living area. I showed him his food bowl, but he turned away. I opened a can of tuna and tempted him with something I knew he couldn’t resist, but again he turned away and returned to the bedroom.

  Okay. Now I was officially worried.

  Chapter 8

  I was greeted by a lot of snow the next morning. It was still dark, but I knew that the guests would be up soon, looking for their breakfast, so I pulled myself out of bed. I could hear Georgia in the kitchen, hopefully making coffee. Pulling on my knee-high slippers and a warm, wraparound robe, I headed to the bedroom door with Molly trailing along behind me.

  “I guess we got all the snow they were predicting,” I said in a voice as cheery as I could muster, given the mountain of snow outside the windows.

  “It looks like we did. Four feet at least, and there is more on the way.”

  “Are we going to be able to get over to the inn?” I asked, looking out at the even deeper wall of snow that had drifted with the wind and settled against the front door of the cottage.

  “I spoke to Jeremy, who already started the fires in the fireplaces on the first floor and is working on the walkway. As I mentioned last night, the breakfast I’ve planned today is not one that takes a lot of prep time, so I think we should be fine.” Georgia glanced toward my room. “How is Rufus doing?”

  I turned and looked back toward the open door. Molly had joined Ramos, and both were happily eating breakfast, but Rufus remained curled up on his pillow. “He seemed to sleep fine. He doesn’t appear to be in any sort of pain or distress, but I am concerned about his lack of energy and the fact that he hasn’t eaten since Wednesday. I’m going to see if he eats his breakfast. If he doesn’t, I’m going to call the veterinarian.” I glanced out the window. “If the vet is even working today, that is.”

  “We have a new vet in town, Carl White. I met him when I took Ramos to get his shots a couple of weeks ago. He bought the old Carmichael place and moved his practice into the barn he converted. He lives on the property, so I assume he will be able to take patients today. If they can get to him.”

  “I’ll call Colt for a ride. He might need to get the plows on the roads, but I’m sure with his truck and gear he can get Rufus into town.” I walked over to the counter and poured a cup of coffee. “I’m going to jump in the shower and get dressed. The vet won’t open for another hour at least, so I’ll see if I can get some food down Rufus before I panic.”

  “Okay. If I can get the front door open, I’m going to brave the elements and go over to the inn. Let me know if you decide to go into town.”

  I’d hoped that Rufus would be back to his old self this morning, but when he barely even looked at his breakfast and immediately went back to bed after I’d picked him up and taken him into the other room, I knew something was definitely wrong. I found the phone number for the new vet, who asked me to call him Carl, and assured me that if I could get Rufus into town, he would be more than happy to take a look at him. I called Colt, who promised to come to pick up Rufus and me as soon as the road leading out to the inn was plowed.

  At least Rufus didn’t seem to be in pain. I was terrified that something really bad was wrong with him, but at the same time, I was grateful that he appeared to be resting comfortably.

  It was after ten by the time Colt rolled into my driveway. I bundled up against the blowing snow, transferred Rufus to his carrier, and then called to let Georgia know what I was doing. She had taken Ramos and Molly to the inn with her. All our current guests were dog lovers, so at least I didn’t have them to worry about.

  “So, what’s going on with the big guy?” Colt
asked after pulling onto the highway, which had been cleared to just one car width. I wondered what would happen if someone came in the opposite direction, but Colt informed me that the road was closed except for emergency vehicles until they could get it widened. I guess this was one of those times when it was beneficial to have friends in high places.

  “He is lethargic, and he’s off his food. In fact, the last time I saw him eat was breakfast on Wednesday. When I showed him his bowl this morning, he barely even looked at it before going back to bed. I’m really worried.”

  “Not eating doesn’t sound like Rufus. But I’m sure Carl will find out what ails him and get him all fixed up. I’ve had several conversations with him since he took over as the town veterinarian, and he seems to know his stuff.”

  I turned and looked at the cat carrier on the back seat. “I hope so. When Rufus first wandered into my life, I was sure I didn’t want him to stay, but now I can’t imagine what I would do without him.”

  It took us over an hour to make a trip that on any other day would have taken twenty minutes. Carl was waiting for us in the veterinary hospital when we arrived. I explained what was going on, and he completed a cursory exam, and then suggested I leave him there so he could give him some fluids and do additional tests. He was going to put Rufus under very light anesthesia so he wouldn’t be stressed by the tests and suggested I call him in two or three hours. I didn’t want to leave the big guy behind, but there was nothing I could do about it, so when Colt suggested lunch, I decided to go with him. All the restaurants were closed because of the snow, but Colt called Velma, who owned a diner, and she invited us to her home for a bite.

  “Thank you so much for taking pity on us.” I hugged Velma hello.

  “This isn’t my first blizzard, and I’m sure it won’t be my last. Folks like Colt, who need to work despite the weather, still need to eat, so I have an open-door policy. You know I like to help out when I can. Coffee?”

  “Please.”

  “I hear Rufus is sick,” Velma said after pouring Colt and me each a cup of coffee, then putting soup on to heat. She pulled out the makings for grilled cheese sandwiches to go with the soup. Somehow sitting with Colt and Velma in her cozy kitchen in the middle of a storm felt just right.

  “He hasn’t eaten for two days,” I explained. “The new vet is doing some tests on him. I sure hope he is okay.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” Velma patted my shoulder. “That cat is a tough one. A real survivor. Lived out in the woods during a winter storm after his owner died before you took pity on him and invited him in.”

  I smiled. “You mean before he invited himself in.”

  “Well, yes, I guess he did do that, now that you mention it.”

  Velma crossed to the stove and gave the soup a stir. “And how goes your investigation?” she asked Colt.

  “So far, it has gone slowly. I can’t imagine why all five of the men who were at the poker game wouldn’t tell me the truth, but the only explanation I have been able to come up with for the timeline provided is that someone or everyone is lying. It makes no sense at all.”

  Velma placed buttered bread on the griddle. “Why don’t you walk me through it? Maybe I can help.”

  I thought Colt might refuse because this was an open investigation, but instead, he leaned his forearms on the table, took a breath, and began to speak. Some of what he shared, I already knew, but some facts were new. It was obvious that Colt had been working on the case since the last time we spoke.

  “There were six men at the house, including Train Tyson, when he was stabbed with a large butcher knife from the kitchen. Train had mentioned to the others that he was going to go outside to smoke a cigarette, and his body was found on the back porch, so I’m assuming that someone followed him out. At least eventually. According to the stories I’ve been told by the five surviving men, each went their own way.”

  Velma slid the sandwiches onto plates. “Go on. You say the five other men went in different directions. Where?”

  Colt answered as Velma ladled the soup into bowls. “I spoke to Tank Tyson early this morning. Tank was Train’s older brother and the owner of the house where the murder occurred. He told me that the group had been playing poker for a few hours when he heard a knock on the door. He went to find out who’d come by so late and found a man he didn’t know standing on the porch. The man claimed that his car had broken down and his phone had died, and he asked to use the phone. Tank told me that he’d showed the man into his office, where he keeps his landline, and returned to the others. That was when he suggested that they take a break because the game had been interrupted anyway. One of the players, Hank Hanover, suggested they call for pizza, and they all agreed to take a break until after the pizza arrived. Tank said he headed into the kitchen to get a beer. When he opened the refrigerator, he realized his stock was running low, so he went to the detached garage, where he keeps a second refrigerator for beverages.”

  “Wait,” Velma said. “Tank never went back into the office to check on the stranded motorist?”

  “When he initially ran through the sequence of events for me, he didn’t mention the motorist again after he left him in the office, but I asked about that very thing when we spoke again, and Tank altered his statement. Now he says that he poked his head in the office after the group broke up and found the guy was gone, so he assumed he’d made his call and left.”

  “Seems odd to leave a stranger alone in your house,” Velma said.

  “I agree, but at this point, I have no proof that anything other than what Tank told me actually occurred.”

  “Okay,” Velma said. “Go on.”

  “Tank stated that after he poked his head in the office, he continued to the kitchen and eventually headed to the garage. According to Tank, after he entered the garage, he heard a noise. He thought it might be an animal, possibly a cat, who had wandered in to escape the snow, so he took a look around. I need to point out that Tank’s garage is a large, three-car structure that is so cluttered, you can barely walk around in it, let alone park one car. In addition to all the clutter, there are stacks of inventory for the sporting goods store he owns, so if an animal had gotten inside, it wouldn’t have been easy to find.”

  “Could the noise have been made by a human?” Velma asked.

  Colt took a sip of his soup. “Tank agreed that the noise could very well have been made by a person, and as I’ve already indicated, there would have been plenty of places for that person to hide.”

  “Did Tank ever figure out what or who made the noise?” I asked as I nibbled on the corner of my sandwich.

  “He did not,” Colt answered.

  “Maybe it was the motorist, who hadn’t actually broken down after all,” I suggested.

  “Or even just a prowler who was looking for something to steal,” Velma added.

  “Perhaps. Eventually, Tank decided to give up the search, but he told me that as he passed the spot where he keeps his garbage cans, he remembered the next day was garbage pickup day, so he opened the double car garage door and began hauling the cans out into the alley.”

  “Alley?” Velma asked. “He must live in the old section of town where detached garages are built on alleys that run between the houses from the streets to the north and the streets to the south.”

  “That is where he lives,” Colt confirmed. “Anyway, according to Tank, once he hauled out the garbage cans, he closed the door, picked up an eighteen pack of beer, and returned to the house via the side door leading into the backyard. He removed the beer from the case, placed it in the refrigerator in the kitchen, grabbed some paper plates and napkins for the pizza, and returned to the den, where the poker game was on pause. According to Tank, Hank Hanover was still in the room, watching an old movie on TV while he waited for the pizza to be delivered.”

  “And what did Tank do then?” I asked, having been pulled into the much more detailed accounting than the one I’d previously heard.

  “He sa
id there were muddy footprints on the floor that had to have been left by someone who had gone outside, although he didn’t know who, so he vacuumed them up and then settled in to watch the movie with Hank. The doorbell rang a few minutes later. Hank got up to get the pizza, and Tank went back to the kitchen for the red pepper he’d forgotten to grab when he’d gotten the plates. By the time he returned to the den, the pizza, and the other four men were there. Train hadn’t come back in, so Tank went out to tell him about the pizza. When he found Train on the back porch, he was already dead. He went back into the house, told everyone what had happened, and they called me.”

  “So someone killed Train during the break,” Velma concluded. “Tank went into the garage; what about the others?”

  “Hank Hanover claimed to have stayed in the den waiting for the pizza the entire time.”

  “And did he see or speak to anyone while he was there?” Velma asked.

  “He said that no one came in until Tank came in and noticed the mud. He claims he was alone in the den, so he has no alibi, but as you will soon see, everyone else is in pretty much the same boat.” Colt took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “Bob Brown, a friend of Tank who knew Train, has only undergone a short interview so far, but during it, he told me that when the game broke up, he went into Tank’s office to make a call. I pulled the phone records for both the house landline and the cell phones of all six men, and there is evidence that suggests Bob called a blocked number from his own cell shortly after the group broke up. I will be asking him about that call when I have a more in-depth interview with him later today.”

  “Okay, so we know what Tank, Bob, and Hank claimed to have been doing at the time Train died, but what about the others?” Velma asked.

  “Frank Fish was also at the poker game,” Colt continued after eating a few sips of soup. “He told me that when the game broke up, he went upstairs to use the bathroom. I found that odd for several reasons, one of which being the fact that there was a bathroom downstairs, just down the hall from the den and, according to the statements of the others, no one told me they went in that direction to use it, so it would have been empty.”