Murder at the Inn

by London Lovett

  I carried a stack of plates to the sink to rinse. I hadn't heard the footsteps behind me until I turned off the water.

  Angela handed me a few more plates from the table.

  "Thanks. How did you like the milkshake?"

  "I'm lactose intolerant, but they smelled delicious." She picked up a handful of Lana's party mix and pulled up a chair. I'd asked interview questions intermittently throughout the evening, mostly uninspiring ones like how did you get interested in ghost watching. And most of their answers were as dull and flat as the questions, but I hadn't gotten much chance to talk to Angela alone. She was always busy making sure her brother was the center of attention.

  "It must be rather lonely in this big house," Angela said.

  I dried my hands and joined her with a fistful of party mix. I pulled out a chair and sat. From what I'd witnessed in my group dynamic observations, Angela was more knowledgeable than her brother about paranormal events. She seemed to be his right hand person, making sure he had everything he needed and ready to assist him at a moment's notice. There wasn't much sibling affection or the usual rivalry between them. It was almost as if they'd grown up in separate homes. Angela was a good ten years younger, which might have easily explained why they acted more like business partners than siblings.

  "Not too lonely. I have my dogs and both my sisters are just a stroll in either direction." Then, of course, there was another reason why I wasn't the least bit lonely and that reason materialized on the kitchen counter. He looked frazzled from the intrusion into his 'space'. He'd spent so many years wandering the house alone. Since my arrival, it had been nothing but the clamor of construction, dogs barking and playing and constant visitors. I felt a twinge of guilt about causing such a stir in his prison. He couldn't get away from any of it no matter how irritating it all became. It had to be frustrating to know that the quality of his eternity was totally dependent on whoever lived in the house.

  "I must say I do feel a lot of static charges and changes in temperature in this room in particular." Angela's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

  "That might be because it's the kitchen. Plus, I'm having the whole house rewired, so I imagine there are some stray charged particles popping around." I had no real knowledge of electricity, except that it was frustrating when the power was off, but my amateur's explanation sounded plausible to me.

  Angela seemed disappointed that I'd dismissed her sixth sense. I back stepped quickly. I was still on the hook for persuading the group to pick Firefly Junction for its convention. "But you're right. I can feel vibrations in the air all the time. Sometimes my dogs just stop and stare at something in the hallway or in another room and when I check it out, there's nothing there."

  Her face loosened into a smile. "My dog is very good at sensing invisible entities as well, although sometimes I think he does it just to get my attention. That way I'm reminded that he hasn't had a treat for the last hour. "

  "Ah ha, I see our dogs are all from the same family line of treat lovers." I was relieved that my earlier pessimistic comment had been forgotten.

  Angela's brow creased. "I have to admit, I thought there would be much more activity in this house than we've experienced. I've read that the spirit left behind died in the vigor of his youth. Then there are those rumors of what his lover told him on his way out of this world. I'm certain that would keep any soul from eternal rest."

  I swallowed a large chunk of peanut and put the rest of the party mix on the table. I looked cautiously around and startled when I found Edward hovering right over my shoulder with a glower that sent a chill through me.

  Angela caught my unexplained shiver. "Are you all right, Sunni? You look like you've seen a ghost." She winked at me. "A little paranormal humor."

  I forced a dry laugh. "Yes, that's cute." I patted my chest to stop the pain from the peanut going down too fast. "Just need to chew my food better," I said lightly. I took a deep breath, while I debated which way to go. Should I just ignore her comment about the rumors, which more than likely were just more tall tales circulating about the Cider Ridge ghost? Or should I pursue it and find out what she'd heard? If she had something significant, it might help me solve the mystery surrounding Edward's unrest. Of course, pursuing it would have been much less stressful if Edward weren't un-breathing over my shoulder. I would never forgive myself if I let the moment pass without further inquiry.

  "You mentioned something about what Edward was told on his death bed?"

  "Yes," she said, "Edward was his name. That's what Henrietta told me when I talked to her. She knew quite a lot about the whole tragedy, the duel and the rogue who repaid his cousin's generosity by seducing his young bride."

  The air surrounding me grew chilly, but Angela didn't seem to notice the change in temperature.

  I had a dozen questions racing through my head. I took another breath to stop myself from overwhelming her with them. I started with the obvious. "Who is Henrietta?"

  Angela's eyes rounded. "Henrietta Suffolk? I'm surprised you've never spoken to her. She's a veritable treasure trove of information on this house. I found her when I did my research on haunted houses in the region."

  Through Edward's cold aura, I could feel my cheeks warm with shame. I was an investigative journalist, and I had never come across this veritable treasure trove. I needed to work on my research skills, it seemed.

  "How does Henrietta know so much about Cider Ridge Inn?"

  "Henrietta is a sweet woman who lives in Connecticut. She just celebrated her ninety-fifth birthday, but she's as sharp as a tack. She is a direct descendant of Carson Suffolk. Carson was a cousin twice or thrice removed to Cleveland Ross, the man who built this inn."

  "Yes, I knew that he built the house," I said, trying to make myself feel better about my apparent ignorance. "How are the Suffolks related to this inn?" I discretely crossed my arms to shield myself from the drop in temperature.

  "After the scandalous affair and tragedy that followed, Bonnie was sent to live with the Suffolk family on the east coast. Cleveland wanted nothing to do with her after that."

  Edward had drifted farther from the conversation, possibly just to give me a break from the icy air swirling around him. But I had no doubt he was still glued to the conversation at the table. He glided back and forth with a furrowed brow, his image teetering between sharp as a black pen on white paper and as blurry as an unfocused photo.

  I contemplated just dropping the subject, but something told me Edward would make a clamor out of frustration.

  "Bonnie took care of him after the duel?" I asked.

  "Yes, right inside this house. And as the poor man's blood drained away, Henrietta said Bonnie pleaded with him not to leave her. Or at least that was how the story went."

  I'd heard the phrase 'how the story went' enough to know to take everything with a grain of salt. A woman pleading with her lover would certainly seem normal during such a dramatic moment. I flicked my gaze Edward's direction. He was deep in thought as he drifted back and forth through the kitchen.

  "That all sounds so dramatic and tragic," I added, but I sensed a bigger shoe was about to drop.

  "I'm sure it was a very touching scene," she said. "The handsome, roguish man who stole her heart, cut down in his prime by her husband's pistol. And, of course, her heartbreak was only compounded by the pregnancy."

  A rush of cool air clattered the pots and pans over the table. Angela's face blanched some and she looked up at the vibrating pots. "What on earth caused that?" she asked.

  Edward had shot up to the hearth with a glower that reminded me of a vulture or other angry bird of prey ready to swoop down and cause havoc.

  "This is a drafty kitchen," I explained. My stomach tingled with nerves.

  Barbara appeared at the kitchen entrance. "There you are, Angela. Kenny wants to have a table discussion about our next adventure at Dandelion Inn. We're hoping to collect quite a bit of data there." It seemed my inn wasn't quite the paranormal hotbed they�
�d expected. If they only knew.

  "I'll be right there," Angela called.

  My heart raced ahead, but I couldn't let it end without knowing. "What pregnancy?"

  Angela scooted forward like a woman about to relay some juicy gossip. "According to Henrietta, Bonnie was with child, his child."

  My throat was dry, and it seemed the air in the kitchen was suddenly filled with electrical charges, just like Angela had noted before the conversation turned explosive.

  "His child?" I asked, but I already knew the answer.

  "Yes. Bonnie was pregnant with Edward's baby."

  The next few seconds were so fast and alarming, I found it hard to describe them. It was as if an odd explosion, one that came with no flames or blast, burst all the air from the house. The kitchen windows strained, and if the intense pressure had gone on longer, the glass panes would have shattered. Angela and I instinctively covered our ears. There was no loud noise, the opposite, in fact. It felt as if all sound had been vacuumed from the house, and the result left my ears in tight pain as if I was taking off in a plane. Redford and Newman came skittering out of the bedroom with their tails tucked between their legs. They didn't stop until they were both tucked under the table near my feet. When the bizarre shift in air pressure subsided, walls, floors and ceilings relaxed with squeaks as if the air had been released from a balloon. The entire event lasted less than five seconds but a person would have had to be in a coma not to notice it.

  "He's here," Angela said breathlessly. "Edward Beckett must be here."

  I gathered my wits and glanced back toward the hearth. Only a trail of mist remained where Edward had been hovering.

  Chapter 14

  For a group of self-proclaimed paranormal experts, they were certainly shocked by actual ghostly activity.

  Angela gasped and stood up so quick, she nearly fell backward over her chair. I caught her arm. Seconds later, alarmed voices and agitated footsteps filled the hallway. Lana was the first person through the kitchen entry. Her flawless skin looked like polished white marble. Her worried gaze shot straight to me. Shocked faces popped up behind her. The entire group, even the confident, arrogant Jamie Nielsen looked pale with fright as they piled into the kitchen.

  My hands were shaking as I stuck them behind my back to hide my reaction. "Calm down, everyone. I'm sure there's a good explanation for what just happened."

  Barbara was holding tightly to Kenneth's arm. "Like what?" she asked with a trembling voice. "It felt as if someone had squeezed the oxygen out of my lungs." She patted her chest before sidling even closer to Kenneth. It seemed the alarming moment had worked in Barbara's favor.

  "A sonic boom," I offered with little confidence.

  "I wonder if they're doing any logging up in the mountains right now," Lana suggested.

  I pointed at her. "Yes, Lana's right," I said too loudly. I steadied my voice. "I'm sure there is some logging happening nearby, and it shook the house."

  Rex Thunder wasn't buying our flimsy explanations. "Lumberjacks have a dangerous enough job in full daylight. I can't imagine any of them would be foolhardy enough to cut timber in the dead of night. Besides, it was more a change in air pressure than a booming sound. It felt as if the entire house had been submerged deep in the ocean and then brought to the surface too quickly. Like divers experience on their way to the top."

  Lana gave me a wry half smile, apparently hoping I'd come up with something else. But I had nothing.

  Jamie had finally gathered his wits. "I'm going to turn on the EMF meter and the electronic voice recorder. It certainly seems as if we've just experienced a significant paranormal event."

  Lana scooted closer to me and whispered from the side of her mouth. "What on earth is going on? Even the dogs look freaked out."

  Their fur had smoothed and their tails were no longer anchored between their legs, but Redford and Newman seemed committed to spending the rest of the night under the kitchen table.

  "Can't explain it." I hated lying. I especially hated lying to my sister. Unfortunately, ever since Edward introduced himself to me, I'd had to stretch, bend, fudge and laugh off the truth. It was stressful, but tonight took that stress to a whole new level.

  Kenneth managed to pry his arm free from Barbara's death grip. He and Rex decided to take a quick tour of the downstairs.

  Barbara, who never let Kenneth out of her sight, followed closely at their heels. Angela decided to join Jamie on his survey with the magnetic field reader.

  Lana hurried to the refrigerator. "Fortunately, I have a midnight snack of peanut butter cookies and hot cocoa planned. That should take their minds off the unsettling—" She pulled the milk out of the refrigerator. "I don't even know what to call it. For a second there, I thought the entire house was going to be sucked up into an alien spaceship. I swear it felt as if my skin was being pulled back to my ears like a facelift. And the hairs on my arms stood straight up."

  She pulled my crock pot out from the pantry shelf and got straight to work on the midnight snack. It took a lot to throw Lana off her game. She even managed to do a respectable job catering a bridal party turned murder investigation in the middle of the national park.

  "Sunni, you can go to bed. I know you have to get up early for work."

  "Technically, I'm at work." I glanced back to make sure no one was in ear shot, then moved closer to Lana. She began grating a large block of dark chocolate. "I'm supposed to be writing a glowing narrative about the ghost hunting team, but it's hard to work up too many flattering phrases about a group of people who were scared witless at the first sign of a disturbance."

  Lana lowered the block of chocolate and looked at me. "Do you think it was some kind of—you know—ghostly disturbance?"

  "What? No. What? I mean, what do I know?" I grabbed a pinch of chocolate and pushed it between my lips to shut me up.

  "It was the strangest thing I've ever experienced but it didn't last long. Maybe you were right about a sonic boom. Maybe some Air Force jets were flying overhead," Lana suggested.

  I licked a crumb of chocolate off my bottom lip. "I'm sure that's all it was."

  She went back to her grating. "Still, we could certainly let them go on thinking that your Cider Ridge ghost was giving them some kind of signal. I mean, it can't hurt. They came here for that reason. Might even help them decide to come back here for the convention."

  I lowered my chin and peered up at her. "Lana, I love you and I wish you great success, but I'm not hosting an entire convention of ghost hunters in this house."

  "No, of course not. It's not nearly finished enough for that."

  Angela walked back into the kitchen. The color had returned to her cheeks. She walked straight to me with a question. "Do you think I caused that stir by mentioning that Bonnie Ross was pregnant?" She was proving more and more to be the most astute and dialed in person of the group, although something told me her older brother never noticed that.

  "The scandal produced an illegitimate baby?" Lana piped up from behind her pile of grated chocolate. "That certainly adds another layer to the mystery."

  The last thing I wanted was for the topic of Bonnie's pregnancy to take flight again. There was no telling what Edward would do if we dwelled on the subject. As it was, I had no idea where he'd sulked off to, and I had a house full of strangers who badly wanted to lure him out from his hiding spot.

  I turned to Angela. "We aren't even certain the incident had anything to do with a ghost. But I thank you for filling me in on some of the gritty history of this place. It's always interesting to hear details. Lana is making a crock pot of hot cocoa to go with her special peanut butter cookies. I know you mentioned you're lactose intolerant."

  Lana sighed loudly. "That's right. I completely forgot. Can I make you some hibiscus tea to go with the cookies or maybe a glass of wine?"

  Angela nodded. "A glass of wine would be nice." She held up her hand. It trembled slightly. "I'm still recuperating from the entire incident. I was certain
I'd angered or upset Edward with my revelation."

  "Nonsense. I've been meaning to do some more digging into the inn's past, but, if I'm being totally honest, I haven't had time or the patience," I said. "I'd love to get the contact information for Henrietta Suffolk so I can ask her a few questions."

  "Yes, of course," Angela said.

  I hurried to the refrigerator for the bottle of wine Lana had stored inside. It had been a trying night and a glass of pinot noir would help me sleep, but I needed to stay awake and alert. Once my guests had settled down for the night, and I feared that wouldn't be for hours, I needed to go in search of Edward. As rough as my night had been, it was nothing compared to his. His overwhelming reaction to the news of Bonnie's pregnancy assured me he'd known nothing about it.

  Chapter 15

  Apparently, even hardened ghost hunters had their limits when it came to staying up past midnight. Once Lana made sure everyone had full bellies and everything they needed for a comfy night, she went home to bed.

  The team had scoured the downstairs, and after a great deal of pleading with the owner of the inn, the upstairs, to discover the source for the strange anomaly during the marshmallow milkshake break. They came up empty handed and eventually took their deflated frowns and trudging, tired feet to bed.

  I was far too worried to sleep. I sat in my bed reading the same line of my book a dozen times as I listened for a dozy silence to seep through the house. After the scare, Redford and Newman had both decided to crawl not only on top of the bed but under my blankets. I carefully removed my legs, not wanting to disturb them. It was impossible to sneak quietly around a house full of guests with eight sets of claws click-clacking on the hard floor.

  I'd worn my sweatpants and a t-shirt to bed in case one of the guests needed something or in case of trouble. My slippers tended to make slapping sounds as I walked around the house, so I ventured out of the room in bare feet.