Chapter 19

Holy wicked whiskey! I froze and took a gulp of air. How did the book get in here? The guest’s experience with the fireplace was one thing, but my room stayed locked. No one else had access. Not even Brad. When I initially saw the book, had I subconsciously placed it here? There was no other answer. Unless… No. No way. I shook my head, trying to convince myself. Sister Alice was right. A ghost isn’t interested in moving books around. Dear God, I was losing the last marble in my head. “You’re losing your damned mind, Andie Rose,” I muttered. But icy fingers ran up my spine and then up my neck, making the hair follicles on my nape tingle.

I stood utterly still and silent, cautiously looking around my room for anything unusual—like an open window. I rarely locked my windows, but even if one of them had been the access point, unless someone used a slingshot to catapult the book inside, the window was out of the question since it wasn’t accessible from the outside without a ladder. I tiptoed toward the closed window and looked beneath as an extra precaution. Nope. No ladder. It was possible, I supposed, the slingshot not so much.

The book was too thick to fit under the door. Even if it did, how does that explain the book getting on my nightstand? I looked at Aspen, who remained calm, indicating no one had been in here. Otherwise, he would sniff the room like a hound. 

I pulled out my phone and dialed Sister Alice. 

“Miss me already?” she answered. 

“Explain this—the book in question, The Unlikely Suspect, is on my nightstand.”

“Why is that so strange?”

“Because I didn’t put it there.”

“Did you leave your door unlocked?”

“No. I always lock it. Habit.”

“Maybe you’re so preoccupied with all that’s going on and forgot this one time.”

“It’s because of what’s going on that I’ve taken extra precautions to be sure it’s locked,” I insisted.

She fell silent. “You’re sure you didn’t take the book when you saw it in the library earlier?”

“Sister Alice,” I said, drawing an impatient breath, “I think I’d know if I took a book and set it on my nightstand.” I wasn’t about to admit I’d questioned that only a moment ago.

“Well, that is quite a puzzle then, isn’t it?” She was silent again, then suggested, “Maybe it was the cleaning crew.” 

“They don’t have access to my suite. I clean my own.”

“They don’t have a key to each of the rooms? How do they clean the others?”

“They get the keys from the front desk when they come in. I changed the locks to the master suite when I moved in.”

“Hm.” She pondered that before finally saying, “One key must be similar enough to yours that it works for both locks. That’s the only answer.”

I hadn’t considered that. But if that was the case, I’d be calling a locksmith again.

“The question remains,” she continued, “if the crew doesn’t clean your room, what were they doing in there?”

“Exactly,” I said.

“Anyone new on the cleaning crew who missed the memo not to touch your suite?”

“I’ll find out.”

“Does it look like anything was moved or disturbed?”

I went into the kitchenette area. The glass and bowl were still in the sink where I’d left them this morning, and the pillows and blanket were askew on the sofa. Relieved I’d broken my neat-freak streak, I said, “Nope, nothing out of place. Only something in place that shouldn’t be. When I find out who it was, they’re gonna have to go.” 

“That’s a little rash, don’tcha think?”

I sighed. “I suppose. This whole thing just has me off my center. I’ll find out what I can and check my keys against the rest of them.”

“Good idea. I’m sure you’ll find there’s a very plausible answer.”

“What if—”

“Be reasonable, Andie Rose. The ghost didn’t put the book there. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Let me finish my sentence.” I combed my fingers through my hair as I realized my unintentionally sharp tone. “I was going to say, what if Tom got a key from Jade, and he was in here? Or since Mike and Ivan were friends, what if Mike somehow got it from Ivan?”

“How?”

“Maybe I left them lying around somewhere at some point, and he got a copy.” 

“And what, Tom knocked off Ivan for a copy of a key to your room so he could plant a book there? Andie Rose, you are one of the most organized people I know. You wouldn’t just go leaving your key lying around.”

“You just suggested a minute ago that’s what I may have done.”

“It was one of those nonsense things that comes out of my mouth.”

I rubbed my hand across my forehead, then put light pressure on my eyelids with my thumb and forefinger, smudging my eyeliner and mascara. “You’re right. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical answer, and I’m making something big out of nothing. I need to go for an evening run. It will do both Aspen and me some good.” At the mention of the word run, Aspen sprung up, turned a circle, and cocked his head as he stared at me.

“That’s a good idea, but do be careful. And hit up the meeting tomorrow.”

“I will. That’s where I get most of my entertainment.” 

“Indeed. Talk later.”

“Hey, quick question before you go—how do you know Izzy Carter? I saw the two of you talking outside the inn earlier. Did you catch her in a compromising position with a boy, too? Like Tara?”

“Her mom belongs to the church. If you came, you’d know that.”

“I’m not ready yet. When I am, I might go to the protestant church,” I teased her. “Then what would you do?” The Protestant and Catholic churches in Spirit Lake each believed they were the answer. I’m the type that needs to do plenty of research before I find an answer to anything. But that meant I actually had to do the research, which I’ve not begun.

“I’d schedule an intervention.”

“I’m sure you would. So, what can you tell me about Izzy?”

“She’s a child genius. She pretty much runs her mama’s catering company. She catered a few events for the church. Izzy has some serious talent. Unfortunately, she has a serious attitude to go with it. Because of her intellect, I think she needs a good challenge.”

“She applied for the sous-chef position.”

“Is that so?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“We were talking about her mom.”

“She’s only sixteen. I don’t see how I could hire her for such a position. She should go to college. Did you know she was working for her mom’s business when she was only eleven years old? That’s criminal.”

“Don’t get your undies in a bunch. Izzy helped wash dishes. And she should go to college if she wants to go to college. Not because you think she should.”

“I know that,” I agreed. “But—”

“Maybe you could use your life coaching magic. You know, help her decide what she wants to do with her life. But I’d be willing to bet the money lost from the collection plate at St. Michael’s that becoming a chef is her dream.”

“Does that mean you have the money from the collection plate?” I asked, amused.

“Nope. That’s why I offered to bet on it. That way, I can’t lose.”

I chuckled. “Good grief. Talk to you later.”

****

When dinner was over, I helped Sister Eunice clean up the kitchen, then drove her back home. When I returned to the inn, I changed into my running clothes, velcroed Aspen’s harness around his chest, and snapped on his leash. “Come on, boy; let’s go for a run.” I could have sworn he smiled. I grinned and scratched his head before turning toward the door. 

“We’ll be back in about forty-five minutes, Jade,” I called over my shoulder as we passed the front desk.

“You’re going out now? It’s dark.” 

“We’re only going around Little Spirit Lake, not both Little and Big.” Cutting out the trail around Big Spirit Lake shaved a lot of exercise from the run. But if shorter was safer, it was worth it. Better than an increased chance of getting axed by a maniacal killer on the loose. I held up my hand, showing her the pepper spray I clutched there. 

“Why don’t you stay on the road? There aren’t a lot of cars, but at least there are some.”

“That’s precisely why we’re not going on the road,” I said. “It’s too hard for drivers to see someone at this time of the night.”

“It’s not a busy road, Andie. It’s only inn traffic, and dinner time is over. Whatever locals were here have already gone back into town.”

One glance at her be-reasonable-about-this posture and I finally relented. “Fine. If it makes you feel better.”

“A murderer is stalking around out there. Of course, it makes me feel better. Despite what the police are inclined to think, the killer isn’t sitting here at the inn. Especially not behind this desk.” She pointed toward herself.

“A killer is more likely to be on the road than hanging out by a lake enjoying the view after dark.” At her attempted protest, I pushed my hand out, palm facing her. “I’ll go on the road. Mom.” I shook my head and exhaled through pursed lips. “See you in about thirty.”

She smiled her win. “Thank you. And quit pouting. That’s my job.”

“And you do it well.”

Aspen and I fell into an easy trot, the cold, fresh air reinvigorating my mind and body. No matter what it was, nature made everything better. Nevertheless, I wasn’t stupid. I clipped Aspen’s leash onto a strap around my waist, clutched the pepper spray in one palm, and my phone in the other. I played rock music from my phone, sans earbuds, so I could better hear my surroundings. Bear hadn’t gone into hibernation yet. Just last week, a guest left grahams around a smoldering bonfire, and the bear feasted. There was also the one caught on the video cam. That said, humans frightened me more than animals. When animals killed, it usually served a purpose—food source or mamas protecting their young. Humans were capable of evil for evil’s sake.

A pickup truck passed me, driving toward the inn. I waved with my hand that clutched the pepper spray, but the dark tinted windows prevented me from seeing if it was a guest.

As I ran, the murder, the investigation, the mysterious book in my room—all of it—released its stranglehold and nearly vanished from my mind, giving me energy to take deep cleansing breaths, the oxygen releasing all the bad vibes. Unfortunately, within the first five minutes, sirens wailed toward town, and it all boomeranged back. 

Suddenly, Aspen stopped dead in his tracks, jerking me with him. “Ouch. What are you doing, Aspen?” I glanced toward the large cornfield nestled between groves of trees. He stared with earnest attention; my breathing picked up its pace faster than when I was running. “Aspen?” I whispered as I muted the music and listened for any noise. At the rustling of cornstalks, I strained my eyes through the darkness to see what it was. I held my pepper spray at the ready and screamed like a little girl, almost peeing my pants, when something lunged out of the field. A whitetail deer, more scared than I was, stood frozen mere feet in front of us before disappearing across the road.

I heaved a sigh of relief and bent over, my hands resting on my knees. “Holy wicked whiskey,” I said, catching my breath. Aspen touched his nose to my cheek. I squatted, rubbed his neck and belly, then began trotting again. This time no music, only full awareness of my surroundings. It was a harmless deer, but it had heightened my senses all the same. 

After ten more minutes, we were nearly to the town limits, so we turned around and headed back for the inn. By then, the sirens had ceased, but the blue, red, and white flashing lights pulsed against the inky, dark sky, a reminder of the emergency in town. I kept as calm as possible, trying to enjoy the run.

When we were within a quarter mile of the inn, I began a cooldown walk. Aspen followed my lead. Once again, he stopped and gazed into the cornfield sandwiched by groves of oak and birch trees. 

Scanning the darkness in case there was something there, I came up empty. “The deer is long gone by now, Aspen. Come on.” I tugged gently on his leash, but he didn’t budge. The hair at my nape tingled, and I pulled harder. “Aspen. Come on,” I urged, but he remained steadfast. I tapped the flashlight app on my cell phone and shined it in the woods, but it didn’t carry far. Leaves crunched, followed by silence, then they crunched again, the sound getting closer. I held my breath and tried to look closer through the darkness when a truck came creeping around the bend. Seeing us, it sped faster, its tires sliding in the gravel toward us. The mirror narrowly missed my head and sideswiped a tree instead as I ducked and jumped back, yanking Aspen with me.

The taillights zipped out of view, my breath in ragged gasps. I crouched low and checked Aspen for any injuries. It appeared the only thing hurt on either of us was my leg from jumping back at an awkward angle. But it wasn’t enough to keep me from taking off at a good pace toward the inn with continual glances behind me. 

After what seemed like an hour, when it was hardly three minutes, we reached the parking lot of the inn. We slowed, and once again, I bent over, hands on my knees. I unclipped Aspen from the strap around my waist and unsnapped the leash from his harness. He eagerly sniffed the ground, his nose eventually leading him to the door. I glanced around the large yard. Despite the voices from the back and the smell of bonfire smoke, the front yard was empty.

When I opened the door, Jade quickly set her phone down. She leaned forward and stared through bloodshot eyes. “What happened to you?”

“Tom?” I asked.

“Tom?” She frowned, her brows nearly touching. “Where did you see him?”

“I didn’t,” I said, walking to the desk. “You were on your phone, and it looks like you’ve lost your best friend.”

“Pretty much. But, no, it wasn’t Tom.”

I began taking my jacket off, and Aspen went around to Jade for the attention she doled out to him.

“Why do you look so stressed?” she asked. “Usually, running brings you peace.”

“Yeah, when I’m not attacked by a deer and a truck doesn’t almost hit me.” I shook my head and shivered. “I told you, running on the road is dangerous.”

“Attacked by a deer?” She scratched her head. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly attack me,” I stammered, “but he almost smacked into me.”

She smirked. “I can see why the confusion. And what happened with the truck?”

“A truck hugged the side of the road as it came around a bend and almost hit us.”

“Like the deer almost attacked you?” she asked, rolling her eyes. When she saw I wasn’t kidding, she gasped and stood. “Oh, my God. Are you hurt?”

“I’ll be fine. Scared the daylights out of me, though. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Nope.” She sat back down and loved on Aspen again.

“He plays you, ya know. I give him plenty of attention and affection.”

“Says you,” she said to me while staring into his big brown eyes. “Has mama been neglecting you, baby?”

“Stop baby-talking. He told me he doesn’t like it.”

She offered a bemused smile. “If you’re hearing him talk to you, you have much bigger issues than my baby-talking to him.” Her attention dove back to him as she crooned, “You’re such a good boy, Aspen.” She touched her nose to his, the only other person he allowed to do that except me.

I reached for the phone I’d moments ago laid on the counter alongside the pepper spray. The phone rang, startling me.

“Hello?” 

“Andie Rose,” Sister Alice said. Her voice sounded too serious.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Someone shot Mike Swanson tonight. He’s at the hospital. Father Vincent met the ambulance there.”

I gasped, and my hand flew to my mouth. “Is he—did he—” 

“He’s alive, but it doesn’t look good for him, Andie,” she said gravely. 

“I heard sirens a while ago. Must have been why.” My head felt like the spin cycle on a washing machine.

Jade jumped to her feet and leaned over the countertop, practically in my face. “What happened?”

I shushed her, leaned back for space, and held up a finger, a nonverbal cue asking her to wait a minute. I turned away and strolled to the door, looking through the glass into the darkness.

I shivered and moved back toward the desk, turned away from Jade, and whispered, “This can’t be a coincidence, Sister Alice. He was one of our suspects. Maybe Ella killed Ivan, and she was afraid Mike knew too much.”

“Except the reason we suspected Ella in the first place was her protection of Mike. Shooting him hardly qualifies as protection,” she said dryly. 

I envisioned her running her fingers through her hair, causing it to stand on end.

“I hate to say this, but at least my staff and I won’t be suspects in this one.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“None of us has a motive for wanting Mike dead.” I inhaled sharply. “Unless Mike’s shooting and Ivan’s murder are related. And if it’s not Ella, then who? Oh, boy,” I muttered.