Murder at the Inn

by London Lovett

  "Trying to throw you off the scent, eh? Although, it's hard to find any scent behind the noxious fumes of that cigar."

  "Huh, I kind of liked the way it smelled. It reminded me of my Uncle Pete. Anyhow, I've got to get back to the station. Thanks for the tip on the phone call from the lawyer."

  "You're welcome. And next time we meet, let's try a different location. You know, change things up a bit."

  He laughed.

  "Maybe without a murder victim too," I added.

  "Good idea." He opened the door for me. "Actually, why don't I come by your house later with some dinner."

  I very nearly fell back into the jeep as if a blast of air had hit me. "Dinner? Tonight?"

  "It'll be my way to say thanks for helping out on these murder cases."

  His explanation was slightly deflating, but it helped me gather my wits. It was just a thank you dinner, and nothing more. No date mentioned. I quickly chastised myself for immediately jumping to conclusions. This was much better. The last thing I needed was to date Detective Brady Jackson.

  "I'd take you out properly, but I've got a ton of work to do at the office so it might be kind of late. Say eight? Do you like burgers and fries?"

  "I never say no to burgers and fries." I marveled at how coolly I answered when my insides had gone to jelly.

  "Great. I'll see you then."

  Chapter 26

  "It is just a thank you dinner, burger and fries in my own kitchen. Don't read too much into it," I told my reflection in the mirror as I checked my hair and outfit choice for the tenth time. My hair looked too brunette and my skin looked too olive tonight. How I wished I could occasionally borrow Emily's fairy princess coloring. "Argh," I growled. "There I go again making this a bigger deal than it is." I dragged myself away from the mirror and headed to the kitchen.

  "Making what into a big deal?" Edward was leaning against the kitchen counter tossing Newman's ball in the air and making my dog crazy at the same time.

  "If you're going to tease him with that ball, at least have the decency to throw it," I sniped.

  I walked to the pantry to get some apples for the bowl on the table. It was always good to falsely display how healthy my eating habits normally were just before a burger and fries. As I reached for the pantry door, Newman's tennis ball whizzed past my ear and ricocheted like a stray bullet off the kitchen wall.

  I spun around with nostrils flared.

  Edward shrugged. "You said to throw it."

  "So it's going to be one of those nights, eh? I haven't seen you for over a day and now you show up. And in an obnoxious mood, no less. Tonight of all nights." My chin nearly dropped to the floor. "Tonight of all nights," I repeated weakly. "How did I forget about my intrusive tenant when I said yes to dinner here?" The question was for me, but Edward chimed right in.

  "I'm not your tenant. I'm just allowing you to live here," he corrected.

  "Right, allowing me to pay for everything and make sure this place doesn't come down around your vaporous, yet amazingly supersonic, ears." A new question about Edward's existence popped into my head. "What would happen to you if this house was torn down?"

  As usual his response was filled with sarcasm and no actual facts. "I can't tell because no one has torn it down yet. But with the way that human colossus has been tinkering with the switches and wires, we might soon find out. Only the explosion will save the work of tearing the place down."

  "As usual, you exaggerate. Tom said he'd be done by next week. I hope my landlord can put up with the inconvenience just a bit longer."

  "You sure are in a foul mood," he drawled.

  I pointed to my chest. "I'm in a bad mood? Please. If we're going to compete for champion grump, you're already wearing the crown."

  Newman returned the ball and dropped it in front of Edward. Edward blew the ball, and it rolled slowly across the kitchen floor. The dog still chased it exuberantly as if it had been thrown.

  "Who is coming to dinner?" My silent wish that he wouldn't ask was dashed.

  "Just a friend. And you will make yourself scarce. No wait, not scarce. Invisible. Extinct. What's a more exact word so there's no lack of interpretation? Gone. You just make sure you are gone from this general area and the entire downstairs. All right?"

  "Is it a date?" He blew the ball harder. It rolled into the hallway. Newman skittered after it.

  "No, no it's not a date. It's a thank you dinner." I slipped into the pantry and grabbed some apples from the shelf. I carried them out and arranged them in the ceramic bowl on the table.

  "Maybe you should think about it," he suggested.

  "Think about what?" I leaned back to admire my artistry. I was going for the casual yet organized apple bowl look.

  Edward floated over to the table. "About going on a date. Might help your mood."

  I blinked over at him. "Is there any chance your middle world eternity is going to end soon because I feel like I'm living with my mom right now. That reminds me. So much happened in the past few days, I forgot all about the records office." Surprisingly, he didn't interrupt so I continued. "I'm on a mission to find out what happened to your baby."

  Just the mention of the baby caused his image to fade, his visual version of a mood change.

  "No, don't disappear, Edward. At least not yet. Later, yes. Please."

  That made him angry enough to come sharply back into focus.

  "I think that's what's keeping you here. You don't know what happened to the baby and to future Edward Beckett generations." The pitter patter of raindrops drummed lightly on the roof.

  "What if none of it is good news? Maybe it's better not to know." He drifted to the window.

  "So that's why you're so bristly. You're worried you left behind a string of dissolute characters."

  "How I miss the feel of rain on my skin." He gazed out the window a second longer. "Bristly? Sometimes you use the oddest phrases. And I'm not worried about my legacy. I was the dark horse of the Beckett family in England. And it suited me just fine."

  "What is it then?"

  He faded away and I thought he'd gone. I startled when he materialized right in front of me. "What if there was tragedy? What if Bonnie died in childbirth like so many women do?"

  "Did," I corrected. "Medicine and maternal care have improved quite a bit since then. I think this will help you, Edward," I said with complete sincerity.

  "Fine. Research away then. Just keep the undesirable stuff to yourself."

  "Agreed. So far, nothing undesirable. I discovered Bonnie's maiden name."

  "Milton," he said.

  "Darn it. You already knew?"

  "Of course. Why wouldn't I? Back then we talked to each other and wrote letters, unlike now when you communicate through little slabs of metal."

  "I'll bet you didn't know that she was born—"

  "In Boston," he said casually.

  "Darn it again. Jeez, talk about having the wind taken out of my sails. I just spent a perfectly good morning watching a human-sized sloth shuffle around a hundred square foot office as if he was traversing the globe and all for not. I just needed to ask the ghost in the attic." I laughed. "I like that. The ghost in the attic. Could be book title."

  A knock sent me straight to attention.

  "By the way, that arrogant detective pulled up to the house while you were thinking up book titles and astounding me with all the momentous information you uncovered."

  I smoothed my hair. "All right, that's your cue to fritter away and be gone. And behave."

  "What is this word 'behave'?"

  "Funny ghost. Now go away." I headed to the door with my heart doing just a bit too much dancing for a thank you dinner.

  Chapter 27

  The pitter patter had turned instantly to a downpour. Jackson was wet and dripping (a look he managed to pull off just fine) as he stepped into the house.

  He lifted his coat to reveal both his shoulder holster and the bag of food he had safely tucked away from the deluge. "
Nothing worse than soggy burgers."

  "Except soggy fries," I amended as I led him to the kitchen.

  "See, I had you figured for a crispy fry girl. I asked for them to be well done."

  Redford and Newman greeted him with extra exuberance. Jackson laughed when Redford nearly knocked him over. "I've got to stop wearing that cheeseburger cologne."

  I grabbed two plates from the cupboard and set them on the pine table. "I hope you don't mind if we eat in the kitchen. The dining room isn't quite finished."

  Jackson looked around the kitchen. "This room is bigger than my entire house." He placed the food on the table.

  "Where do you live?"

  "A little cabin in Hickory Flats."

  "What would you like to drink?" I asked. "I've got soda, milk and orange juice."

  He pulled the burgers out of the bag. "Water is fine."

  I proceeded to fill up two glasses with ice water and tried to ignore the tiny tremble in my hands.

  "Sorry I'm late, by the way," Jackson said as I carried the waters to the table. "It seemed like everyone and their second cousins needed to talk to me just as I headed for the door."

  I sat down next to him and he slid my burger over.

  "Dr. Fritz, the coroner, called to confirm that Kenneth died from a blow to the head. The tissue samples—" He stopped. "Way to go, Jax," he said to himself. "Tissue samples always make the best conversation starters at the dinner table."

  I opened a pack of ketchup. "No, continue. I don't mind. I'm interested to hear."

  He smiled just enough to make that finger tremble start again. "You are definitely not like other women, Bluebird."

  I swirled the fry through the ketchup. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

  "Good." He unwrapped his burger. "Anyhow, Fritz told me the tissue from the banister matched Applegate's. In fact all the tissue samples came from him. There was no glaring signs of foul play except, strangely enough, there was a pink bruise on his upper chest."

  I sped up my swallow. "So maybe someone pushed him and left the mark on his chest."

  "That's the first thing I asked Fritz. He said the bruising looked more like a pinch. Like someone was grabbing him instead of slamming him."

  "A pinch? Weird." I thought about it as I chewed another bite. "Maybe someone was grabbing him." I reached out and plucked at the air. "Maybe they saw him falling and reached out, and the only thing they could grab was his chest."

  "Sort of far-fetched. His arms would have been flailing. They would have been the first place to grab. And that theory doesn't go with what the witnesses heard. If someone was trying to keep you from falling head first down the stairs, you wouldn't yell at them to go away."

  "Good point. And good burgers too. Thanks. I didn't realize how hungry I was until the first bite." I picked up a fry and briefly considered that I might be eating too fast. Lana loved to point out when I was acting like a human vacuum. I made a mental note to ignore my hunger and eat more like a lady than a vacuum. "Anything else new on the case?"

  "It's a frustrating one. If the two witnesses hadn't heard Kenneth pleading with someone before the fall, this would have been written off as an accident. But I have to treat it like a possible murder. And to answer your question more directly—the yellow strand I showed you in the evidence bag seems to have come from a synthetic wig."

  "A wig?" I thought back to all the people in Dandelion Inn that night. "No one was wearing a wig. In fact it's not all that common these days."

  "I called Kitty Bloomfield to ask if she had anyone through the inn lately who wore a wig. She said a group of older women, who were in town for a quilting bee, had stayed at the inn last week. She was certain she remembered two of them wearing wigs."

  "Huh, I take back my generalization then. That might explain the strand of synthetic hair."

  Jackson put down his burger. "Except, as you noted already, Kitty is obsessed with cleanliness. She was very insulted when I suggested the strand of hair could have sat there for more than a week. I didn't push the point because I didn't want to get the housekeeper in trouble."

  "She does keep a spectacularly clean inn. It's kind of daunting to think about keeping this place that clean when I finally open to guests."

  A raspberry-ish sound fluttered behind me. I froze mid-bite. I hadn't sensed Edward's presence but then that might have been because of the enormous presence Jackson cast as he sat in my kitchen.

  Jackson's brow furrowed as if he'd heard the sound. But that was impossible. I was relieved when he moved on from it. "During our conversation, Kitty mentioned that Barbara had been released after her antacid overdose." We exchanged amused smiles. "They are all getting restless. She said Jamie and Rex rented a car. They've decided to take a road trip and look at a few more haunted destinations. I don't see how I can keep them here any longer. And you'll be interested to know that I did some digging, after you mentioned the call from the lawyer on Angela's phone. It turns out Kenneth Applegate inherited all of his dad's money. Angela had a different mother and the divorce was so bitter, Martin Applegate took it out on the ex-wife by taking her and Angela out of the will."

  "How cruel. That means Kenneth had all the family money."

  Jackson dipped a fry into ketchup. "Not anymore. Kenneth had no other immediate family except Angela. According to the lawyer, she'll be getting everything."

  "Ah ha, a possible motive."

  "Might be," he said.

  I moved onto a new subject that had less to do with murder and motives. One that hopefully wouldn't warrant ungentlemanly noises from my ghost. "You call me Bluebird and occasionally my real name, but I don't have a friendly moniker for you. Not for when we are working in our professional capacities, of course, but, like now, when we're just hanging out eating burgers. Detective Jackson seems kind of formal."

  "Sir Brady Jackson," he suggested with a crooked grin. "Everyone calls me Jax. I don't really like the name Brady. People always inevitably break into the Brady Bunch theme song when someone calls me by my name."

  I chuckled. "I'd never put those two things together, but now that you've made the connection for me—"

  "Oh great," he said.

  "I'll just call you Jax. I like it."

  His amber eyes looked nearly dark gold under the kitchen light. He gazed at me in a different way than usual. "And I like the way it sounds coming from your lips."

  My entire body tightened with adrenaline at his comment. I hadn't dated since my horrid breakup with Brett, but I was certain I still recognized flirting when I heard it. He leaned toward me. Suddenly, I was sure he would kiss me. I had trouble balancing on the stool as he moved his face closer to mine. I closed my eyes as he neared. I held my breath in anticipation.

  Thunk, clink, bang! Newman's tennis ball shot past us, bounced off the oven and hit the pots and pans hanging over the table. Jackson stood up abruptly and looked around the otherwise empty kitchen. Thankfully, Newman had jumped up excitedly when he heard the ball. He was the only excuse I could muster. After the near kiss followed by Edward's tantrum, I was having a hard time sorting my thoughts.

  "That dog of mine," I laughed and the fakeness was grating on my ears. "He's somehow figured out how to toss a ball with his mouth. That's how desperate he is to have the ball thrown."

  Jackson stared down at me with disbelief. "That was not a toss from a dog's muzzle. That thing fired across the room like a bullet." He reached up and touched the side of his face. "Nearly took my ear off."

  "Well, look around. There's no one else here except the dogs." The waver in my tone wasn't helping prove my point.

  Jackson glanced around the room once more before sitting down with a good deal of hesitation. "Fine, but I'm going to be watching that dog to see how he does it. Or maybe this place is more haunted than you think," he added as his phone rang in his pocket.

  He pulled it out to see who was calling. "Speaking of haunted inns, it's Kitty Bloomfield." He stood up. "Excuse me." He walked out
of the room to take the call.

  Edward immediately appeared on his perch over the hearth. "You were going to let him kiss you."

  I moved closer to the hearth, so I could talk quietly. "Yes, yes I was. Until you interfered," I hissed.

  Edward, on the other hand, spoke as loudly and freely as he pleased. "Someone had to. It's obvious you're a bad decision maker. He should not be here without a chaperone."

  "Chaperones only exist at school dances," I whispered sharply.

  That started a new discussion. "They allow dancing in schools? No wonder the human race is faltering so badly in everything proper and moral."

  I blinked up at him, flabbergasted and frankly not sure what to do with him.

  "As I've said before—" Edward continued . . . unfortunately. "I don't like him." He vanished as Jackson's heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  Jackson reached the kitchen and looked around with a profoundly confused expression.

  "Everything all right?" I asked.

  He glanced over at the dogs who had dropped down on their pillows. "Either those two dogs can talk or I'm losing my mind. I could have sworn I heard a male voice when I was heading back to the kitchen. Here's something even crazier. I could have sworn he had a British accent."

  I froze in shock, not sure what to say or do or think. Maybe Edward was losing his ghostly skills. He always made sure only I could see or hear him. Unless he wanted someone else to hear. That was it. He wanted Jackson to know he didn't approve. He was trying to scare him off. My shock turned to anger. I had to unclench my jaw to speak.

  "I haven't heard my dogs talk but then you never know. They are border collies." I laughed airily or as airily as I could. "I think you've just been working too long of hours, Detective Jackson."

  He raked back his thick hair with his fingers. "You might be right. Which brings me to the next subject. There's trouble at Dandelion Inn. Kitty was too upset to articulate what was going on. I just hope it's not another antacid overdose. I've got to cut short the burger date."