Chapter 9

I took up residence in the chair Tony recently vacated, my thoughts vacillating between planning dinner for that evening and murder suspects. I shifted my attention to a Suit who came through the door and strolled toward me. FBI? Attorney? Whoever, he was arrogant, if I had to say so. No bias, of course. I stood.

“Ms. Kaczmarek?” He extended his hand. “I’m with the BCA,” he added as I shook his hand.

I squinted. “What’s BCA?”

“The Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. I’m here to clear the crime scene. Give me a minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thank God.” My hand flew up to cover my mouth, and he stared at me, none too impressed. “Sorry. It’s just that I was at a loss as to how to serve dinner to our guests.”

His eyebrows lifted as he looked around the empty room. “You still have some after last night?”

I nodded. “Surprisingly, yeah. The brave are in town or by the lake ghost hunting.”

Now it was his turn to squint and ask what I was talking about.

“There’s a ghost on the premises. Or so I’m told. I’ve yet to see it.”

“Maybe the remaining guests are avid Clue fans, taking advantage of the situation to see if the ghost did it in the kitchen with the corkscrew.”

I frowned.

“The board game?”

“I know what Clue is.” I scowled my disapproval. Someone murdered my chef less than twenty-four hours ago and this guy was cracking jokes.

“My apologies.”

After a moment of awkward silence, I said, “So I can go into the kitchen now?”

“Yes.”

I turned and began my way there, feeling weights attached to my ankles. I was torn between relief that the kitchen was no longer a crime scene and returning to the gory image burned into my head. I stopped and pivoted at the footsteps marching behind me and the Suit almost bumped into me.

“Is there something else?”

“I should probably do a final run-through to be sure my people collected everything,” he explained. “Will only be a minute.”

I nodded my okay. Like he didn’t have enough time to do that before he gave me the green light?

He ducked under the yellow and black crime scene tape and motioned for me to stay put. After he finished, he ripped the tape from the doorway, wadded it in his hands, and tossed it in the small trashcan by the door.

“You’re good to go,” he said. “Good luck to you.”

What did he mean by that? Did he know something I didn’t, like I was doomed to the inside of a jail cell? I took a deep breath to clear the accumulating anxiety. “Meaning?” I called after him.

He turned toward me. “No hidden meaning.”

I kept my gaze glued to his back as he passed the front desk and left, the front door closing behind him.

I took a deep breath to recenter myself and entered the kitchen. The corner where I’d found Ivan’s lifeless body snared my attention and held it without mercy. Finally, I broke free from the memory.

****

With the Suit gone, I got down to work at the stainless-steel work island. I gave Aspen the freedom to roam the inn, but as usual, he stayed close to me, now snoozing on the braided run by the kitchen doorway. When he was particularly needy for attention, he hung out with Jade.

I no longer needed to fear getting caught by Ivan in the kitchen, and that thrilled me. Yet, relentless guilt shoved its way in, insistent on being my companion. As payback, the ominous corner where I’d found him seized my attention time after time.

Between getting desserts in the oven and chopping peppers and onions for fish tacos along with a topping bar—the quickest I could think of to make—I stole a valuable minute and searched for the dog biscuit recipe. Coming up empty, I wondered if Ivan had already tucked it in his pocket before his murder. I’d have to ask Detective Griffin. If the police had it, they would hold it as evidence, and he wouldn’t release it to me.

Then an idea thwacked me: Ivan wasn’t interested in keeping the recipe. He wanted it permanently gone. I crossed my fingers as I turned toward the garbage can. If it was less than half full when Tony left for the night, Ivan emptied it after he finished the breakfast preparation.

I stepped over to the large garbage can, picked up the lid, and peeked inside. Sweet–my lucky day. It hadn’t been emptied on the day of the murder, and the police apparently found no reason to take it. If Ivan threw the recipe away, it’d be here.

I studied the gross, disgusting contents that only ripened overnight and decided then and there it was to be taken out every single night, even if it held a single paper towel. My nose wrinkled, and I gagged at the thought of digging through it. I thought of Aspen and how much he enjoyed the biscuits, not to mention the businesses that bought them from us to sell in their stores. Those were the ultimate deciding factors to get down and dirty with the trash.

I donned a pair of heavy-duty rubber yellow gloves from the sink, the ones that fit up to my elbows, and began. I’d gotten halfway through it when Tony said, “What are you doing? Can you say health code violation?”

I jumped and emitted a scream before turning to look at him, his eyes and mouth equally round. My cheeks warmed.

“The chef cannot be both cooking and digging in the garbage,” he exclaimed.

“I was looking for the dog biscuit recipe. I looked everywhere else and came up empty, so I assumed Ivan may have thrown it away.” I pulled off the yellow gloves and threw them in the trash.

He reached into the pocket of his apron and waved a card in front of me. “It’s right here.”

“How did you get that? And why didn’t you tell me you had it?” I asked with an accusation born out of humiliation. 

“Why would I? I was going to make a few batches before I left today, but obviously couldn’t.” 

“Oh.” Shame crept farther up my neck. “Where did you find it?”

He glanced away and mumbled, “I may have snooped around the kitchen a little when I came in to get the apron and the towel. To see if there was anything suspicious in there.”

“Hypocrite,” I grumbled.

“I wasn’t digging through the garbage while I was cooking,” he clarified. “Big difference.”

“Whatever,” I said, stuffing my hands in my apron pocket. “That stupid recipe was one of the things that caused the entire scene at Brewski’s. I was positive he’d return to get it so I couldn’t have it.” 

“What scene at Brewski’s? And why wouldn’t he have just waited until today?”

“Because I told him to start looking for another job.”

Tony’s eyes bulged. “Seriously?”

I filled Tony in on the argument between Ivan and me the prior evening. When I finished, I saw Tony’s eyes glaze over.

“Look, why don’t you head home and get some sleep? You look half dead—pardon the expression. I’ve got things covered here.”

“No more garbage unless you’re taking it out to the dumpster. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “You sound like my dad.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Don’t go back to your office yet. Detective Griffin’s got Jade in the hot seat now.”

“Great,” I muttered. “She wanted me to be in the interview with her, but he gave me a resounding no.”

“He say why?”

“Claims witnesses are less likely to be forthcoming when someone else is in the room.”

“He has a point.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to like it.” I tightened my ponytail by grasping it in two sections and pulling it tight.

“You, too, have a point.” He slipped the apron from around his neck and tossed it in the laundry bin with the towels.

“Care to dish about your interview?”

“It’ll have to wait. I’m in desperate need of sleep. Besides, neither of us needs the detective coming in here catching us comparing notes. Spotlight’s on all of us right now. Especially you and me.” He shook his head. “Peace out.” With a wave of his hand, he was gone.

****

When Detective Griffin popped into the kitchen, I had just finished putting the food out for the guests with Lily’s help. The desserts had five more minutes before taking them out of the oven. Aspen lay sprawled on his side on the floor outside the doorway, and the detective nearly tripped over him. I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling. Karma for making our lives at the inn so darn difficult.

“I’m heading out,” he said. “I’ve spoken with your staff, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told them—don’t plan a road trip anytime soon.”

If he talked with everyone, I’d need to keep my office door open tonight to let out all the negative emotions and vibes that might be stuck in there. 

“No worries, Detective. I have a business; it’s not like I can pick up and leave anytime I feel like it. Nor do I—or any of my staff, for that matter—have any reason to leave. We’re innocent.” But were all of us innocent? That’s what I needed to find out—and fast before my business crumbled and everything Grandpop and Honey worked so hard for disappeared faster than I could run.

“So long, Ms. Kaczmarek. I’ll be in touch. And, again, if you find out anything else, which I’m sure you will,” he added dryly as he tapped the countertop, “let me know.” And then he was gone. 

While the guests ate, I puttered in the kitchen, periodically escaping to check on Aspen. He hung close to Jade at the front desk, making Lily and the guests happy as well.

When I breezed through the dining area, refreshing drinks, a couple of guests peppered me with questions about the murder. People at the tables nearby practically spilled from their chairs to hear. 

I gave the same scripted answer to everyone; “We’ve been instructed not to talk about an open investigation, but no one here at the inn has anything to fear.” Although the staff received the admonition to keep their mouths shut, it was unlikely it would keep them from talking about it among themselves. They’d just have to be discreet as possible. I agreed with Tony. We were already in the spotlight and didn’t need to get caught talking about it openly. Plus, the last thing I wanted was to scare away the guests we had left.

Frank Flowers, the gardener, came into the kitchen a little after six. Frank was seventy-eight and the most benevolent southern gentleman I’d ever known. That said, he was the only southern gentleman I’d ever known. I tried not to play favorites with my staff, but Frank quickly became my most beloved employee. He’d made me a lucky gal by staying on when I took ownership of the inn. 

“I’m headin’ on out, Miss Andie. Anything you need me to do before I leave?”

I turned and smiled at the man standing in the kitchen doorway, dirt smeared on his overalls. His white hair contrasted with his weathered, light smoky quartz-colored skin. I quickly went toward him so he didn’t enter the kitchen, inadvertently transferring the dirt. 

The man could make grass grow in the desert, and our grounds were flawless because of Frank. Honey had discovered how many people found gardening therapeutic and relaxing, so she opened it to guests as well. Our greenhouse became an attraction to the Spirit Lake Inn all on its own. When Honey died, Grandpop kept it going. There were even clay pots in there that creatives could decorate. Frank thrived on the responsibility for it. 

“No, you’re good to go, Frank. I hope Detective Griffin didn’t cause too much stress for you. He’s interviewing everyone who worked with Ivan.”

“No stress at all, Miss Andie.” He smiled. “That Ivan wasn’t a nice man and was a pain in my backside, but I’d never kill him. Heck, I free a trapped mouse if it’s still kickin’. If I can’t kill a mouse, no way I could kill a human bein’.”

I smiled at him warmly. “I can’t imagine anyone not being nice to you, Frank. Have a good evening.”

“A’right then. See you bright and early.” He smiled and waved as he turned and left. 

No more than ten minutes later, Jade popped her head into the kitchen, a stark contrast to Frank. 

“I’m out,” she said.

“Interview with Detective Griffin go okay?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I’m looking forward to spending time with my kid tonight. Get my mind off it all.”

“Does he know? The detective.”

Her gaze shifted to the floor. “Some of it.”

“Some of it? Can I ask what part he knows and what he doesn’t in case he says anything to me?” Again, keenly aware we weren’t supposed to be discussing it, I didn’t want to bury her if I admitted something to the detective that he didn’t know yet.

“He knows about me and Ivan, but that’s it. I didn’t tell him about the baby, about my fight with Ivan, or about me telling Tom any of it.” 

I sighed through a long exhale as she turned to leave. “Jade?”

“Yeah?” She poked her head back through the kitchen doorway.

“I hope not telling the truth doesn’t come back to bite you.”

She frowned. “I told him the truth. Just not all of it.”

“Lie by omission,” I said gently. You’re one to talk, Andie Rose. Hypocrite much? “I just don’t want it to work against you if he finds out.”

She narrowed an eye. “And how would he find out?”

“Not from me,” I said, holding my hands out. “But keep in mind, I’m not the only one who knows about it.”

“You and Tony. And he better keep his mouth shut.”

“You’re forgetting about Tom. What if he says something?”

“Why would they talk to him at all?”

“Jade,” I said, talking to her as if reasoning with a child. “If they know about you and Ivan, they’d be stupid to ignore the scorned spouse.”

Her shoulders fell. “Crap,” she cried, blowing through pursed lips. “I was so worried about the baby that I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“And not only that,” I continued, “but you don’t know if Tom has told anyone. For every person you think you can trust, that person has someone they can trust, and on and on.”

“I will not get in trouble for something I didn’t do,” she said with emotion-driven anger. “It sounds like you want me to go down for it.”

I crossed the kitchen to where she stood and laid my hands gently on her shoulders, looking her square in the eye. “That couldn’t be further from the truth, and you know that. Give the police the truth, and trust that I am working on this behind the scenes, per se. To be sure the right person gets caught. I trust my staff, and I plan on working to clear every one of us.” I was fully convinced this time. For the moment, anyway. My trust meter felt broken and unreliable. But while I believed in Tony and Jade, Tom was a very viable suspect. 

“How do I tell the old fart now without making myself look even guiltier? I assured him I knew nothing more than what I’d told him.”

I took a deep breath and thought about her dilemma. “Let me think about that one, okay?”

She nodded, sniffled, and left. 

After dinner, I cleaned the dining area, straightened a few autumn centerpieces of calico corn and sunflowers in vases. I cleaned the kitchen and checked in with Lily, who was scheduled until closing at eight o’clock. She assured me she had everything under control, so I grabbed a jacket and strolled to the lake’s edge with Aspen.

The big old willow tree beckoned us. Aspen’s attention darted toward the boathouse in the shadows. He stopped short and let out a barely audible growl. Glancing at what held his attention, I saw only my reflection, long and distorted in the darkened window. I kept my eyes glued there for anything of interest, but try as I might, I couldn’t see anything. I shivered and looked behind us where seven adults sat around a blazing bonfire. No kids. But with a murder on the premises the night before, I’m not so sure I’d want my kids running around at dusk either. Usually, only a few people circled the bonfire at any given time. This evening, it was clear they believed there was safety in numbers. 

Aspen still hadn’t moved, but his stature loosened a bit. I looked at the window one more time and relaxed. Despite the anxiety demon, I considered myself fearless in most things, but clearly, the murder freaked me out. 

We walked out on the dock, taking in the scenery from the edge of the lake. Not much moonlight tonight, just enough to draw sinister shadows. 

I shivered again and folded my arms in front of me. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, savoring the freshness of the lake air. I wouldn’t let anything, including murder, chase me away from this place. Especially since the murder victim had been my greatest threat.

My phone vibrated from my back jeans pocket, and I groaned, expecting it to be Brad again. I looked at the screen—an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Kaczmarek.”

I stiffened at the sound of Detective Griffin’s voice. “This is she. How can I help you, Detective?”

“We need to talk.”