Murder at the Inn

by London Lovett

  I tiptoed to the kitchen. (Not that tiptoeing made much sense in a house with interminably squeaky floors.) It was colder than I expected, even wearing my glamorous sweatpants. I stood by the hearth, Edward's favorite perch, and rubbed warmth into my arms while I waited. After a few impatient minutes, I loudly whispered his name. "Edward, do you want to talk?"

  There was no response or sign of him. I crept quietly through the hallway and peeked in on the guests. Everyone had burrowed under the lush bed quilts and pillows. The only sound came from Rex Thunder who was brewing up some real thunder with his snores.

  I peeked into the sitting room just past the dining room. It was the one room that had been entirely restored. Occasionally I poked my head inside for encouragement to remind myself how beautiful the place would look when it was finished. My first tussle with Edward came when I'd set my mind on painting the room cupid pink. He disagreed vehemently. We eventually settled on an elegant dove gray. I figured, if nothing else, it was nice to be haunted by a ghost with good fashion sense and stylish taste.

  There was no sign of Edward. I couldn't even feel his presence, something that usually happened when he was about to materialize in the same room. As I walked lightly back to the kitchen, I heard a noise above me. It was just light enough to almost miss and just loud enough to let me know something was happening upstairs. I turned back and tried to walk with feather light footsteps up the rickety steps.

  I'd developed more than a sixth sense when it came to Edward. I could feel changes in the air temperature and even silent vibrations whenever he was upset about something. In the darkness blanketing the upper level of the house, that extra sense led me to the room where the remnants of Cleveland Ross's furnishings remained. A broken bed frame, a fallen light fixture and an old trunk made up the leftovers of the bleak Ross history. And even bleaker was my incorporeal friend.

  Edward was perched on the window sill staring out into the shadowy night. Enough moonlight streaked through the dusty window to let me see the grim expression in his wavering image. He heard me walk in but kept his focus on the yard. He was a striking figure in his fawn colored breeches, black Hessian boots and waistcoat. Even in a vaporous state, he had a strong, masculine profile. Certainly, Bonnie Ross suffered a great deal of heartbreak once Edward Beckett strolled into her life. And tonight, we learned just how much sorrow she'd endured.

  I wiped the dust off the trunk and sat down. "I'm guessing you didn't know that Bonnie was pregnant with your child."

  His image tended to fade in and out when he was upset, but it was clear and sharp at the moment. "I did know. I'd just pushed it out of my mind. Until tonight." He drew his gaze away from the window and looked at me. "When are those witless bunch of trespassers leaving?" In general, Edward didn't care for visitors, but he was particularly irritated with the Applegate Society.

  He turned back to the window. "I feel like an animal exhibit in the zoo, and they are the silly people looking through the bars waiting for the bear or lion to do his trick."

  "Well, they certainly got more show than they expected. Or than I expected." I tried a cheerier tone, but that didn't seem to help.

  "Yes, and weren't they a courageous lot of ghost seekers," he snapped. "Half expected them to gather up their ridiculous machines and scurry out into the night."

  I chuckled. "They did fall apart some when confronted with an actual paranormal event, didn't they?"

  His expression loosened. "Thought that one man with the odd open shoes was going to throw up from fear."

  "Yes, Jamie Nielsen did look slightly green around the gills when he raced into the kitchen. But he did bravely search the house with his electromagnetic field meter. Oddly enough, the machine didn't detect anything."

  "Electromagnetic," he repeated quite artfully. "What an outlandish century you live in where people just string together long syllables and important sounding words to pretend expertise."

  "I don't remember much from my high school physics, but I don't think it's as complex as it sounds. Have you been up here since that pivotal moment in the kitchen?"

  "Pivotal? I don't know this word but if you're referring to the moment when the woman with the severe black hair blurted to the world that I'd fathered a—" He stopped short of saying the brutal word, a word that was used to shame people back in his day. Thankfully, that had fallen out of vogue through the centuries. "Yes, I've been up here in this dingy box of a room, the room where I perished."

  I stared up at him, my mouth agape. It had somehow never occurred to me to ask which room he'd been carried to on that fateful day. It was selfish and more than a tad thoughtless of me never to bring it up. "You died here in this room?"

  His nod was slow and faint. "Stared at that blasted brass light fixture for hours waiting for the pain and misery to end."

  I looked over at the brass ceiling lamp. It had eight tarnished arms reaching out from a bulbous center like a brass covered octopus. The glass shades that protected the candles were long gone, splintered into dust over the years. The fixture still wore a crown of ceiling plaster. "You pulled it down from the ceiling," I said.

  "Yes, as I watched them carry my body out of the room, it occurred to me that I was still stuck in the house. Or what was left of me. I got angry and used my new invisible strength to pull it down. Scared everyone near to death," he said with a weak smile. "But they weren't nearly as scared as I was."

  His words felt heavy on my chest. I had never seen him so sullen, and it worried me plenty. It was up to me to help him find his way. I wasn't a hundred percent positive, but it seemed as if we'd turned a corner in the mystery of his eternal imprisonment in Cider Ridge Inn.

  "Edward, I'm carrying your child," he muttered toward the window panes again. As arrogant and outspoken and at ease as he was when talking to me, it seemed it was hard for him to face me on this subject. "What woman tells a dying man those words as he's leaving his earthly form?"

  "Those were her last words?" I asked. "Bonnie told you that as you took your last breath?"

  "I can remember it clearly now. I'd wiped them away, hoping that I'd only imagined them. But it's true. She confessed seconds before my lids fell shut."

  I stood up and walked to the window. The moon and nightly breeze were playing tricks on the shadows, making trees look like long armed monsters and the grass look like the rippling waves of a stormy ocean. "I know this is upsetting, Edward, but I think this has opened the door to us finding out why you never moved on."

  He turned to me.

  I continued. "You said you weren't sure why you were stuck inside the inn. I think this might be it. You left this world never knowing what happened to your child. That's a pretty heavy thing to take with you. It's definitely something that might be holding you back. Don't you think?"

  My revelation made his image waver, fade and then return sharply. "You're right, Sunni. I'd swept the whole thing away and forgotten all about those last few, devastating words. But how will this help me? How can I possibly ever find out what happened to Bonnie's baby? It's been over two hundred years."

  I smiled. "And that's exactly how we can find out. We are in a new century. And we'll start with that strange metal box that you like to complain I stare at far too often. And I've also got the name of an elderly woman who was related to the cousin who took Bonnie in when Cleveland sent her away. She seems to know a lot about the entire story. I'll contact her just as soon as I have time. Before you know it, we'll have you off enjoying a nice, relaxing eternity."

  His laugh had a dark edge to it. "You and I have different opinions about which eternity is waiting for me. Mine doesn't include nice or relaxing."

  I rubbed my chin for a second. "Hmm, never thought of that. Well, let's see where the research takes us and worry about that later."

  Chapter 16

  After a long night, the aroma of bacon frying was like a shot of adrenaline. I sat up, still groggy, and rubbed my face to wake myself up. Newman and Redford were at the
bedroom door, whining and wagging tails, anxious to follow the delicious smell to its source.

  I stood from my bed and stared down at my sweatpants. The entire night came back to me in one dizzying swoop. I sat down hard on the mattress. Redford trotted over and scratched me sharply on the shin.

  "Ouch, yes, I know, bacon, bacon, bacon. Whatever you do, don't worry about your favorite dog mom looking peaked and lightheaded." I walked to the door and opened it. The dogs raced out. I returned to the bed and sat down. The rich smells coming from the kitchen assured me that Lana was already taking care of the guests. I'd wisely mentioned to Parker that I'd be in late because the Applegate Society was staying the night.

  I flopped back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. I had my work cut out for me, and not just in writing a glowing article about a group of paranormal experts who nearly fainted during a brief encounter with a ghost. The kicker was that they didn't even realize it was Edward. No proof showed up on any of their equipment. The entire strange event could have been easily explained away by a sonic boom or rapid change in barometric pressure. Those were two of the theories being bandied about when their equipment found no evidence of paranormal activity. On top of making sure to write a compelling article, I had now taken it upon myself to find out what happened to Bonnie Ross and her baby. I was glad to have a place to start, but it seemed that a quick and easy 'ah ha' moment to explain Edward's situation was not going to be quick or easy.

  A light knock on the door was followed by Lana's smiling face. Her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled as if she'd slept through a long, glorious night. Which she no doubt had after she left the inn. "I'm making omelets and I forgot my shallots. Do you have any?"

  I sat up. "You're at the wrong sister's house. You might as well ask if I have any truffles. I wouldn't know what to do with a shallot if I had one." I lowered my feet to the floor.

  Lana walked inside the room and put her hands on her hips. "Why do you look like you just returned from an all night rock concert? Nice sleepwear, by the way."

  "Not in the mood for big sister sarcasm this morning. It was a long night." I tromped over to my dresser.

  "Oh, why was it so long? It seemed everyone was getting settled in after the odd air pressure thing. Did you ever find the source of it?"

  "No. It's an old house. Every day is an adventure of oddities. I just meant it was long because I'm not used to having strangers in the house. I didn't sleep well."

  Lana came over and hugged me. "I know and I appreciate the sacrifice. Now get dressed and come out to breakfast so you can see your guests off. They are packing up to head to Dandelion Inn right after a shopping excursion in town."

  I pulled a pair of pants and a sweater out of the dresser. "I sure don't have much for an article yet. I might have to visit them at Dandelion Inn. Maybe there'll be more suitable ghost activity there so I can watch the experts in action."

  "Thought you weren't in the mood for sarcasm," Lana quipped before walking out.

  I quickly showered and changed. If nothing else, I needed to get to the kitchen to make sure a certain ghost wasn't skulking acting broody and mad. He didn't seem terribly convinced that I'd be able to find out what happened to his baby. It was possible he didn't even want to know. Pregnancy and giving birth were dangerous back then. I'd hate to discover that Bonnie died in childbirth. Then Edward would be saddled with the knowledge that his sordid affair with Bonnie resulted in her death. That thought sent nervous flutters through my stomach as I headed toward the voices in the kitchen.

  Angela looked up from her cup of coffee. Barbara, Kenneth and Rex had joined her at the kitchen table. Naturally, Barbara was glued to Kenneth's side, gazing starry eyed at him as he drank his coffee.

  There was no sign of Edward. My shoulders sank a good two inches with relief. As usual, Lana had pulled out all the stops. Fresh blueberry muffins sat on a platter in the center of the pine table. Her freshly churned butter was mounded into a silver chafing dish.

  "By the way, Sunni—" Lana pointed to a large envelope on the corner of the counter stamped 'do not bend'. "The mailman couldn't fit that in the mailbox."

  The return address was from Lola's Antiques in Port Danby. My pictures had arrived. I left them on the counter. As much as I wanted to look at them, I decided to wait for my visitors to leave. I was just about to reach for a cup of coffee when I heard Raine's familiar giggle through the kitchen window. I leaned over the sink and peered out. If I tilted my head just enough, I could see the right half of the front porch. Raine was leaning against the railing talking animatedly to Jamie. He was wearing a red and blue flannel shirt over a black turtle neck.

  I returned to my pursuit of hot coffee. I needed to ingratiate myself this morning to make sure I could join APPS on their next adventure, or my article would be a few, skeletal paragraphs.

  I sat down with the coffee and grabbed a blueberry muffin. "I hope everyone slept comfortably. I know the house moans and groans a lot."

  Rex followed my lead and took a muffin. "Old bones make you do that," he chuckled. "I can't stand up from a couch without a chorus of groans."

  Kenneth patted his flecked beard with his napkin before dropping it on his lap. "I've told you, Rex, you need to eat better. You're still eating burgers, fries and spicy food like you're twenty. A good healthy diet will take those aches right out of your bones."

  Angela's pale skin looked extra translucent in the light coming through the window. She had pulled her black hair back into a ponytail. She seemed amused by her brother's condescending lecture. "Thank you for asking, Sunni," Angela said. "The accommodations were wonderful. Once we calmed our nerves after the unusual incident, I think we all slept well."

  "Might have been easier if Rex hadn't snored like a buffalo," Jamie said as he walked into the kitchen. Raine was right behind him with a flirty smile still plastered on her face.

  "Raine, could you help me carry the plates to the table," Lana called from the stove.

  "Sure."

  "None for me, Raine," I said. "The muffin is plenty."

  After omelets were delivered, Raine sat across from Jamie and next to me. She wasted no time. "Jamie tells me there was a strange change in air pressure, like a quiet implosion, in the house last night." She buttered a muffin.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Is that all you can say about it?" Raine asked.

  I wiped butter from my mouth and sipped coffee. "Yep. Pretty much. Not sure how to elaborate. Jamie's description is accurate."

  "Was it Edward?" Raine asked.

  "You know I don't much about that kind of stuff, Raine." I was desperate to move on to a new topic. I turned to Kenneth. "I hope you don't mind if I drop by Dandelion Inn today for a few interviews. As I mentioned, I'm the person assigned to writing an article on your society for the Junction Times. I've already met the owner of Dandelion—"

  Kenneth nearly choked on his tongue. "You've seen her? You've communicated with Lauren Grace?"

  Angela grinned meekly as she touched her brother's arm. "I think she means the current owner, Kitty Bloomfield."

  Jamie hid a smile behind his napkin. Fortunately, since everyone was fidgeting from the awkward moment, he didn't take the opportunity to mock or tease Kenneth about his strange assumption. He certainly had the ghost of Lauren Grace caught firmly in his head and heart. What a ridiculous notion to have a crush on a ghost. Then I immediately wondered what Edward was up to.

  Kenneth's face tinted red from embarrassment, which morphed into a grouchy response. "I certainly hope you'll mention to your readers the brief but alarming event that took place last night and how professional and skilled we were at handling it."

  I was taken aback by the tone of his question. It was almost threatening. He knew, too well, that his entire team of paranormal experts had been frightened by Edward's stunt. It would have been difficult to label their response professional or skilled. Lana favored me with an imploring pair of puppy dog eyes. She'd worked so hard to m
ake their visit wonderful, I didn't want to let her down.

  "Why, of course. I'll mention how courageously and quickly you pulled out your equipment to gather data," I added.

  Jamie puffed a sound from his mouth. "Lot of good that did us. Not one move of the dial. Not one blip on the screen. I'm not convinced it was a paranormal event at all. Maybe she shouldn't even mention it. I'd hate for Evanmore's Ghostly Heritage Society to find out we overreacted to a sonic boom, or worse, the settling bones of an old house."

  "Nonsense. Of course it was something from the spirit world," Kenneth said confidently. "And you may visit us at Dandelion Inn. We'll try and make time for some interviews. As long as you don't get in the way of our research. The lovely—" He cleared his throat. "The lingering spirit in Dandelion Inn has a very strong presence, and we expect to be quite busy gathering data." It seemed the last comment was somewhat of a ding against my seemingly un-haunted inn.

  After breakfast, Lola and Raine helped the visitors get ready to leave. I had a few minutes alone in the kitchen while luggage and gear was being carried out of the house. Curiosity got the best of me. I picked up the envelope of pictures from Lola's Antiques. I slid them out. The first picture was a bucolic scene of kids playing croquet on the front lawn with their mother watching on from the porch. I slid my eyes over to the smear and focused. I had not imagined it. It was Edward, staring back at me from the porch. The photographer had probably passed off the smudged image as a mistake in processing.

  "Is that—" Jamie Nielsen's deep voice dribbled over my shoulder.

  My heart raced as I jammed the picture back into the envelope. "Yes, it’s a picture of the inn mid nineteenth century."

  "But it looked—" Again, I didn't let him finish.

  "If you'll excuse me, I've got to get ready for work." I raced down the short hallway to my bedroom and put the pictures on the dresser. I stayed in my room until I heard their car drive away. My pulse slowed as I easily convinced myself Jamie hadn't seen enough to give it another thought.