by Kathi Daley
Chapter 18
By the time the sun set beyond the clear and cloudless horizon, Tank was indeed in jail for being in possession of boxes of illegal guns. To be honest, I would have bet there had been drugs in the boxes, but guns made sense as well. He still hadn’t admitted to having had anything to do with Train’s death, but the only reason for him to have bothered to move the boxes of guns from the garage on the night of the poker game would have been because he knew Train was dead and the police would be coming around. I figured it was only a matter of time before someone got the truth out of him, but I supposed he could argue that the reason he put the guns in the alley was to make them available for his buyer. Of course, if that were true, why did they end up in a storage unit in Portland?
In Colt’s opinion, he had enough to keep Tank incarcerated while he figured out a way to prove that Tank was one to have killed his brother or at least for him being in cahoots with the killer. He was still looking for that witness or piece of physical evidence to seal the deal, but he felt like he was close and was happy with our efforts.
I asked if he planned to take action against any of the other men. He shared that Dax cheating on a college paper and Hank cheating on his wife were not actually illegal acts, and therefore not in his jurisdiction. He did say that if Frank had stolen the money Train felt had been owed to him, or if something illegal was going on with Dr. Bob’s secret patient, he would very much be interested in following those evidence trails to the end.
Now that Tank was in jail, and in my mind at least, the murder case was close to being settled, I figured I could relax and enjoy the last night with the authors, who all planned to check out the following day. It seemed everyone had enjoyed their time at the inn. Compliments flowed freely, and every single guest at our table had promised to come back to visit again.
As the retreat members ate their last meal together, they shared the highlights of their time here. Jeremy and Hazel had really hit it off, and there was no doubt in my mind the two would stay in touch with each other. Jeremy never talked about his own family much, except for the sister who lived and worked overseas and the niece for whom he acted as guardian when her mother wasn’t in the country, but I didn’t know if he had parents or grandparents still alive. I didn’t know if that meant they were estranged or they just weren’t close. Jeremy and Annabelle were as close as an uncle and niece could be. In fact, in many ways, they were like father and daughter. I knew from the very first time I met them that they considered themselves to be a team who had chosen to navigate life together, at least for the time being. Annabelle loved her mother, and she certainly had been excited in the weeks before her visit home, but during the long stretches when she was away, Annabelle talked about her very seldom.
Alfred and Piper seemed to have forged a bond as well. I didn’t know a thing about Piper’s family history, but she was so sweet and patient with Alfred that I refused to believe she’d been raised by a serial killer. I supposed it was likely she just had a very active imagination that allowed her to feel and experience things she hadn’t actually felt or experienced during the course of her life.
Larry and Laverne were a real kick. I loved the way they openly shared their love and respect for each other. I’d loved Ben with all my heart, but I wasn’t sure we’d ever shared the connection they seemed to have. I had to admit that I found myself hoping that if I did allow love into my life at some time in the future, I would have as much adoration and respect for my mate as this writing team seemed to.
The pair I was the least certain about were the sisters. They shared blood and a long family history, which counted for a lot, and they were both in similar phases of their lives. Both had suffered the loss of divorce and the adjustment that comes when your youngest child leaves the nest. They certainly seemed to be friends, but I could sense an underlying tension between them. Writing was an extremely intimate undertaking. Writing as a team was not something everyone could do. I supposed over time they might work out a system, or perhaps they’d each set out to forge their own path. I just hoped for their sakes that if they decided to split as a writing team, they would be able to do so while still maintaining the bond they’d forged as sisters.
I was sorry that Kate hadn’t been able to make it to this retreat. She had been very much present during the retreat where I’d first met Dax. I remembered the way she’d smiled with pure joy when one of the writers made a breakthrough. She really did love all her little chicks and seemed to care about their careers as much as she cared about her own.
I glanced at Dax as he began his closing statements. If there was one thing I was absolutely sure of, it was that I would never look at him the same way again. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been in his situation and my professor had entered a pirated story I’d claimed to have written in a contest, but I was sure that if I’d come across a man with a knife in his chest, I would have called for help rather than slinking away to avoid confrontation. I hated that things had turned out the way they had for Dax, Train, and everyone else involved, but I wasn’t unhappy about the fact that the silly schoolgirl crush I’d had on Dax all those years was finally totally and completely over.
Georgia announced that dessert would be set out buffet style because she had several offerings and wanted to allow the group to graze to their hearts’ content while they finished the trivia tournament they’d started during their stay. I excused myself and headed toward the kitchen. I pulled out my phone and dialed Colt’s number.
“Hey. How are things?” I asked.
“Mostly good. I still have a few obstacles to work around, but I feel good about the progress that was made today. I did manage to confirm that the money Train felt Frank owed him was stolen.”
“So, Frank is being detained along with Tank?” I asked.
“He is. I guess this week’s special at the jail is two for one.”
I smiled at Colt’s attempt at humor. “Have you eaten?”
“Does a doughnut with my morning coffee count?”
“Not really. Georgia made a brisket. I can make you up a plate if you want to come by.”
“I would love that.”
“Just come to the cottage. I’ll grab some food and meet you there.”
I made a huge plate of meat, potatoes, and vegetables, filled a bowl with salad, and then a second plate with a selection of desserts. I could hear the others in the main living area of the inn working in teams to get the most correct answers. After I’d carried the food next door, I went back to put away the food I’d left out on the counter. From the sound of Georgia’s laughter, I thought the game had managed to engage her.
Back at the cottage, I started the fire, made coffee, and let the dogs out for a bathroom break. Colt arrived just as Rufus came out of my bedroom to grace us with his presence.
Colt looked exhausted, but also a lot less stressed than he had the last time I’d seen him. I served him his dinner on the dining table just off the living area. I sipped a cup of coffee while he ate. I was going to ask for any updates he might have on the case but instead chose another topic of conversation. Tank was behind bars, the guns were confiscated, and combined with the evening’s events, I was sure that Colt would get the additional proof he needed to close the case. If something was going on with Dr. Bob and his secret patient, Colt would dig up the evidence he needed to prove that as well.
“You must be due for some time off,” I said as he dug into Georgia’s brisket.
“I have quite a bit of time coming. I hate to waste it, so I figure I’ll just save it until the next time the kids are in town.”
I sat on my hands, so I didn’t start flapping them about the way I sometimes did when I was nervous. “I’ve been thinking about getting out of the snow for a few days. The inn is busy through Valentine’s Day and then dead through the end of February. I have an old friend who has a condo right on the beach in Florida. She said I could use it. I don’t suppose you’d want to come along?”
>
Colt looked up from his plate. “You want me to come to Florida with you?”
I nodded. “Just for a few days. Maybe a week.”
“And we would be going alone? Just the two of us?”
I swallowed hard. “That was the idea.” I felt myself beginning to chicken out. “You and I are friends, and friends do go on trips together sometimes.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “And it would be nice to get out of the snow for a few days.”
“The condo is really nice. I’ve stayed there before. And the beach where it’s located is pretty isolated. Perfect for long walks.”
“It does sound nice.”
I took a breath and then continued. “When my friend offered me the unit, it did run through my mind that not only would it be nice to relax on a sandy beach, but it would be wonderful to have time with my amazing friend, and perhaps have a chance to get to know him even better.”
Colt set down his fork. He turned slightly, so he was looking directly at me. “Okay. I’m in. Time to relax and to get to know each other better sounds like exactly the sort of time off I need.”
I smiled, and he returned to his dinner.
Okay. So we hadn’t exactly exchanged vows of undying love, but Colt knew me well, and I suspected he knew exactly what it was I was trying very hard not to actually say. I also had to assume that by agreeing to come along with me, he was letting me know in his own way that he recognized the risk I was taking and was letting me know that he was willing to take this journey with me. I couldn’t say that I knew Colt well, at least not as well as I would have liked, but I did know that I considered myself lucky to have him in my life, wherever our journey might take us from here.
The End
The Inn at Holiday Bay:
Proof in the Photo
by
Kathi Daley
Chapter 1
With the arrival of March came gray skies, endless rain, and mud so deep you could barely trudge through it. These elements, when combined, worked to create an overall feeling of melancholy I couldn’t quite break. As I stood at my bedroom window and looked out at the dark, angry sea, I found myself vowing to shake the mood I’d settled into, no matter how strong the urge might be to simply go back to bed and pull the covers over my head until April.
I supposed my gloomy mood had kicked in around Valentine’s Day. The inn had been full to the brim with happy couples enjoying a romantic retreat. Normally, I enjoyed the guests and tried to make the most of every relationship, but twelve people ecstatically in love only served to remind me how lonely my own life had become.
It’s not that I hadn’t had a prospect for my own romantic entanglement. My good friend, Police Chief Colt Wilder, and I had made plans for a romantic dinner on the town after my employee, Jeremy Slater, had agreed to hold down the fort since my best friend, roommate, and business partner, Georgia Carter, had gone off on a romantic overnight trip with the man in her life, Tanner Peyton. But then, on the day of the much-anticipated date, Colt was finally able to convince local sporting goods store owner, Tank Tyson, to admit that he’d killed his brother, Train, during a poker game back in January. Colt knew he was guilty but couldn’t prove it. Tank had been in jail awaiting trial for the illegal gun sales charge Colt had been able to prove, so at least he wasn’t walking around a free man. Of course, even though Tank was already behind bars, Colt had been determined to get the confession he needed to close the murder case as well.
I was happy Colt was able to persuade Tank to confess to killing his brother, although the timing could have been better. As we suspected, the murder occurred after Train had gone outside for a smoke and noticed one of Tank’s clients in the garage. Not knowing who the man was or why he was there, he went to investigate. Of course, once Train realized what was going on, he insisted on a cut of whatever Tank made from the illegal arms sales, at which point Tank panicked, and the younger brother ended up dead.
The confession was a victory for Colt. I was happy he was able to get what he needed to ensure a nice long prison stay for Tank, but Colt wrapping up the case on February fourteenth meant I’d been left playing Go Fish with Jeremy’s niece, Annabelle.
At the time, I told myself that it really didn’t matter. Yes, I would have preferred that Colt and I had been able to share the romantic Valentine dinner we’d hoped for, but given the fact that we’d planned an entire week in Florida after Valentine’s Day, I figured one lonely night playing cards with an eight-year-old wasn’t really all that big a deal. But then, five days after Valentine’s Day, and three days before our much-anticipated trip, Tank committed suicide in his cell, and Colt had gently broken it to me that our trip would need to be delayed.
Turning away from the window, I headed toward my desk. I’d been trying to write for days now, but my muse had most definitely jumped ship. I supposed that was understandable given my overall mood, but I was a professional with deadlines that needed to be adhered to even during those times when my mojo was on the fritz.
I opened my laptop and pulled up the calendar for the inn I ran with Georgia and Jeremy’s help. We had a wedding party coming in. Actually, I corrected myself after further investigation, the group wasn’t so much a wedding party as a pre-wedding or engagement party. The actual wedding wouldn’t be taking place until June, but the happy couple was going all out with the pre-nuptial festivities.
“Meow,” my huge orange Maine Coon, Rufus, said, interrupting my inquiry.
“Are you hungry?”
“Meow.” He began to wind his body through my legs in a figure eight while purring loudly.
“Okay, let’s go and see if Georgia is back from her taping. She said something about pulled pork sandwiches for dinner.”
Georgia was not only my best friend and the inn’s manager, but she had her own cooking show, Cooking with Georgia, which aired on local cable. She was able to do her meal plans and prep work here at the inn, so she only needed to go into the studio for the formal taping once a week, usually on Mondays.
Georgia was just pulling up when Rufus and I exited the bedroom that doubled as my office. My dog, Molly, and Georgia’s dog, Ramos, were curled up by the fire. Of course, once they saw me, the dogs got up, and I realized that all three animals were ready for dinner. I fed the animals while Georgia changed out of her work clothes. Once she was comfortably dressed, she started dinner while I took the dogs out. Georgia had made the pulled pork the previous day, so all she needed to do was heat the rolls and the meat and then build the sandwiches. She planned to serve homemade tomato soup as well.
“How was the taping?” I asked after I’d settled in at the kitchen counter.
“It was good. The producer loves my work, and the ratings are better than either of us hoped, so he’s extending my ten-episode trial to a thirty-episode contract. After that, we can see how things are going and renegotiate, but at this point, both of us are optimistic and enthusiastic.”
“That’s really awesome, Georgia. I’m so happy for you. Maybe you can do a taping here at the inn this summer. Perhaps a patio episode with the bay in the background.”
“That would be amazing. I could do a special on grilling meats or perhaps picnic offerings. Of course, the inn will be full for most of the summer, so we’ll need to take our guests into account.”
“So, who do we have checking in this week?” I asked. “I know it’s a group having an engagement party, but I don’t think I ever inquired about the specifics.”
Not only did Georgia handle most of the reservations, but when she booked the guests, she had a tendency to do some digging, so more often than not, she had the down low on everyone who showed up at the Inn at Holiday Bay before they even arrived.
“The bride’s name is Fiona Arlington, and the groom is Carson Devonshire. Fiona is the middle daughter of Drake Arlington, a multimillionaire who comes from a long line of multimillionaires. To be honest, I’m not sure why someone with Fiona’s means would want to book our inn duri
ng mud month, but when we spoke on the phone, she said she was looking for something quaint and commonplace. She told me she wanted her party to stand out from the elaborate affairs thrown by her friends.”
“I guess a renovated inn, in a small town on the coast in Maine, is probably different than what she’s used to. How long will they be here?”
“They booked the entire inn for four nights. They’re checking in on Thursday and out on Monday. In addition to Fiona and Carson, there are nine other guests.”
“So, most of the guests will be doubling up?” I asked.
Georgia nodded. “Fiona and Carson will be sharing a room. They asked to be assigned the attic suite. Additionally, Carson’s best man, Mike Dover, will be attending with his date, Ambrosia Houston. I assigned Mike and Ambrosia to suite five on the third floor, and Fiona’s maid of honor, Jennifer Bolton, will be in suite four. As far as I know, Jennifer will be attending alone.
“And who will be on the second floor?” I asked.
“I’ve put Alvin Connor, a groomsman, along with his date, Lisa Churchill, who is a bridesmaid, in suite three. Naomi Arlington, the bride’s younger sister, who is also serving in the role of bridesmaid, along with Willa Devonshire, the groom’s sister, who is not a member of the wedding party but is considered to be a special guest will be in suite two.”
“And who did you put in suite one?”
“Jordan Pemberton, a groomsman, who will be bunking with his date, Stephanie Stevens.”
I nodded my head as I tried to commit the names to memory. “Okay, so the bride and groom are Fiona and Carson. The maid of honor is Jennifer, and the bridesmaids are Naomi and Lisa. The best man is Mike, and the groomsmen are Alvin and Jordan. Additionally, we have Ambrosia, who is Mike’s date, Willa, who is Carson’s sister, and Stephanie, who is Jordan’s date.”
